Twinkie Time in the Pacific Northwest

I'm having an excellent year so far - A flying adventure every month! In January, it was taking the G1000-equipped 182 to Key West. In February it was flying Piper Cubs on skis at Cadillac, MI.

Well, March was almost over, and it was such a nice day - My first breath of the fresh Oregon air this morning was a better wake-up than any caffeine-laden substance could possibly muster. I saw a Cessna in the pattern of some field near Forest Grove. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and I decided that I simply had to fly today!

After making some calls, I found a flight school at Hillsboro that had plenty of openings on their schedule, and a selection of airplanes: 152, 172, Arrow, and Twin Comanche. It took me about a microsecond to decide on the Twinkie. I was going to have to have a CFI along anyway even if I took a single, and I've always loved the Twin Comanche. I have a thing for efficient airplanes.

N7652Y is an "A model" PA-30, with four seats and only two side windows on each side. It looked to be well cared for, with a nice interior, a pair of KX-155 digital flip-flop radios, and some speed mods: Flap and aileron gap seals and LoPresti cowls. Several other modernizations were present as well.



The insurance requirements for the Twinkie didn't allow for any sort of real training (No touch and goes, no engine cuts, etc.) but that was OK with me as I just wanted to see the area by air and take some pictures. After preflight and some seat time to find all of the switches and ask the CFI about emergency gear extension, we fired up (Starting two engines is cool) and taxied to runway 2. After a quick takeoff briefing, I added full power. (A handful of throttles is cool too!)

Now, I've been very impressed with the Pacific northwest in my limited experience with it (a week at Lake Chelan in WA in 04, a brief trip to Spokane in Aug 05, and a couple days in Oregon last week), but nothing prepared me for the view shortly after takeoff. I was instantly glad I rented the twin (with its sloping nose) so I could fully appreciate the view...




...of Mount Saint Helens appearing from behind the nearby ridge. Only 600 feet off the ground and I was already turning the controls back to the CFI to grab my camera!

We stayed just outside the West edge of Portland's class C airspace and began following the Columbia River downstream. I climbed up to 8500 to get out of the bumps and stay above the few white puffies. Since this was a sightseeing flight, I relied on pure pilotage. The first good-sized city past Portland was Kelso, WA:



"Ocian in view! O! The joy!" --William Clark, November 7, 1805



We continued down the Columbia River towards the Pacific, just as Lewis and Clark did just over two hundred years earlier, several thousand feet below, and probably just a tad slower than the 175 knots that I was getting. While I share their spirit for exploration, I'm certainly glad that I have modern tools to do so! Lewis and Clark never got to see waves crashing quite like this:



The clouds were getting a bit thicker near the shoreline, but I could see that there weren't any shadows out over the water, so I continued about three miles out over the water before turning southbound and descending to 4500. I paralleled the shoreline for a ways, and then turned to fly up the Tillamook Valley:



That looks like a little slice of heaven to me! I will have to visit there someday. Unfortunately, it also signaled that we were nearing the end of the trip. Another left turn and we were headed directly back to Hillsboro, passing over mountains, a couple of lakes, and finally back to relatively flat ground near the cities. Pilotage was a lot more difficult in the mountains on this last leg, there's not a whole lot of room between the fuselage and the left engine nacelle to spot the tiny rivers.

The plane was actually pretty easy to land. I've heard lots of stories about it, and it's enough of a problem that there is a "small nosewheel" mod to make it less nose-heavy on landing, but I didn't have any problems.

And that was my flying adventure of the month for March... I can't wait to see what comes next!

Yellow airplanes on skis

One month to the day after flying a brand new G1000-equipped 182 down to Key West, I went to the opposite extreme: I flew our club 182 to blustery northern Michigan and flew an old Piper J-3 Cub, without any electrical system at all, on skis!




http://www.avweb.com/news/columns/182671-1.html

Rick Durden has been having an annual ski-plane gathering for about 10 years now, and I was lucky enough to be invited this year. Rick also was kind enough to let me invite my CFII along for the trip, which allowed me to get some good instrument work in on the way there and back and also gave my CFII a chance to do some ski-flying. We flew the 182 up to KCAD, where Northwoods Aviation has a Cub and a Super Cub on skis for rent at very reasonable prices ($90/hr for dual). I arrived on Saturday just in time to see the Super Cub take off from a flat snowy area next to the approach end of runway 25. I went inside to meet everybody and found that this is exactly the type of place you'd expect to be called "Northwoods Aviation," a great place for Hangar Talk:



Northwoods is a father-son operation. They have several J-3 and PA-18 Cubs, a 170, a 180, and there are lots of other neat airplanes parked in the hangar next door where I kept the 182. Ercoupe, amphibious Maule, Tri-Pacer, Viking, and two of these (I forgot what they are... Had to ask!) For the most part, all of the planes were in amazingly good condition as well, some impressive specimens:



The Super Cub was being kept busy, and Derek, the son part of the operation who is a CFI and A&P, asked if I'd like to go flying in the Cub. After one-third of a nanosecond, I enthusiastically said yes and we pulled it out of the hangar. The Cub was on "wheel penetration" skis, which retract with a manual hydraulic pump to let the wheels down far enough to land on a runway or to be easily rolled out of the hangar.

The next trick was getting in. You can't step on the gear strut or the wing strut, and at 6'4" these planes are just a bit small for me! Regardless of your height, about the only way to get in is to sit on the bottom of the door frame and grab one of the tubes in the cockpit and slide yourself into the seat.



After getting in, I took a look around the cockpit to get familiar with it. There's not much to this process! The panel has only an airspeed indicator, non-sensitive altimeter, magnetic compass, tachometer, and oil temp and pressure gauges, and an inclinometer which didn't appear to work very well. There are no switches because there's no electrical system. The only other things on the panel itself are the primer, mixture control, and a cabin heat knob. There was a carb heat control on one wall, the mag switch on the left wing root, and clear tube fuel gauges on both wing roots. The throttle is at the bottom of the left window.



Another first for me: Hand-propping. Well, I didn't do it, but I'd never actually flown a plane that needed it. Derek was a pro at it though - He pulled the prop through a couple of times, set the throttle, had me turn on the mags and pull the primer out, and with a swift motion of his arm the engine fired right up. He slid into the seat behind me, I pumped the skis down, and I taxied out onto the snow-covered field.

One oddity on skis is that you have no brakes, so your runup must be done in motion. You also use soft-field technique as it's quite difficult to get the plane moving again if it's stopped in snow. So, I did a quick mag check at about 1500 RPM while taxiing downwind, we did a quick takeoff briefing on the roll (on the slide?) and I turned into the wind and added power.

The takeoff is pretty easy - After adding power, push forward to get the tail off the ground, then a couple of seconds later pull back to take off. I never thought a 90hp engine could lift me off the ground, but it worked! The climb rate was rather anemic but it didn't matter - I was flying the venerable J-3 Cub!



We headed straight out toward a large lake, Lake Mitchell. Low and slow indeed, only 4-500 AGL and then back down a little to check out the lake from the air. We picked a landing spot clear of any slush or other signs of moisture and without any drifts across the path and then flew a pattern around it for a touch-and-go. The first landing on any ice-covered lake is a touch and go in case of thin ice. After takeoff, we flew a pattern again, looking at the tracks on downwind to make sure they didn't darken up from water coming through cracks in the ice. They looked good, so we aimed for the same spot and landed. (Watered? Snowed? haha)

We did a third landing toward the other end of Lake Mitchell and after takeoff saw some snowmobiles racing downwind. We smoked 'em. :D (Yes, we kept our 500 foot separation.) It was kind of a reminder that low and slow still isn't THAT slow. We headed towards Pleasant Lake, just a mile or two north, for a couple more touch and goes. Pleasant Lake is much smaller, and with the slow climb rate of the Cub we had to make the "go" fairly quick and follow low terrain to stay safe. Finally, we headed back to KCAD.

Derek saw my CFII out on the ramp with my camera, so we did a low pass over runway 18-36 before making a left-hand pattern to the landing area. We landed and called it a day. We headed to McGuire's Resort to join everyone else for an excellent dinner buffet (prime rib and crab legs anyone?) and a gathering in Rick's room afterwards. It was great to meet a bunch of pilots and listen to their stories.

Sunday morning, we had an excellent breakfast and headed back over to the airport. Conditions were MVFR with lake effect snow, but when low and slow that's not such a big deal, especially when you're never more than about 5 miles from the field. It also cleared up throughout the day.

Around lunchtime, I still hadn't flown again and others were making plans for lunch. I still wanted to fly the Super Cub, and it seemed like this would be my last chance. Derek said we could go flying and he'd drop me off at the restaurant where everyone else was going when we were done.

We hopped into the Super Cub, which was equipped with wheel replacement skis - They mount right onto the axles where the wheels would be if they were still there. The Super Cub has several things the Cub doesn't: An electrical system (and starter), wing flaps, 150hp engine, sensitive altimeter, slightly wider cabin, and probably a couple of other things I'm forgetting. Unfortunately, the wing flap lever was all the way up next to my leg when I put in full flaps and that seemed to prevent any significant leftward movement of the stick, so I stuck to two notches of flaps for the landings.

Again, we taxied out and took off from the same area. With the extra ponies up front, the Super Cub really jumps off the ground! Normally when I think of a 150-hp airplane, I think "Warrior that hasn't been upgraded" and I certainly don't think about good performance. However, the Super Cub climbed briskly in the cold air. We headed a couple miles south to Lake Cadillac. After a couple of landings there, I had Derek take the controls while I took some pictures.





We did a couple of landings on Lake Mitchell as well, and I tried to get a photo of our tracks.



Finally, we landed on Lake Mitchell near the restaurant where the others were. I'd thought Derek was going to drive me there, but I ended up getting the coolest $100 hamburger ever instead!



Watching the Super Cub take off was amazing - Derek got it moving, taxied it further out onto the lake, and added power. It only took about 50 feet for the plane to lift off! I started heading for the restaurant, but I wish I'd had my camera out instead, as Derek came back for a nice low pass before swooping back up into the air - Would have made a great picture, but I couldn't get my camera turned on fast enough!

As if all the Cub flying wasn't enough, I got 8.4 hours of good IFR time in the 182 on the way there and back. My CFII used all five of his instrument covers and two post-it notes in the process! :hairraisi However, I still managed to hold altitude and course well within parameters. His last trick was to fail Nav1 on me on the ILS 21 back into MSN just shy of the FAF, requiring a very quick re-tune/identify on Nav2 to track the localizer instead. The checkride should be very soon, hopefully in March.

Not dreaming of a white Christmas

When I was little, I remember always wanting snow for Christmas. Maybe I thought Santa's sleigh didn't work without it, who knows? Luckily, living in Wisconsin, Christmas was almost always white. However, I still remember how disappointed I was the one year we didn't have snow for Christmas.

Now, Christmas means something different. Instead of playing in the snow and opening up new toys, it means a break from the daily grind, a chance to be with family, and maybe a chance to go on vacation. Since Santa became a myth, snowless Christmases in Texas and New Mexico have not dampened my enthusiasm for the holiday. I reflected on this a bit as I drove from the familiar wintery landscape of Wisconsin down through the flatlands of Illinois, the gently rolling hills of Kentucky and Tennessee, and the pines of Georgia on my way to the palm-dotted, once-again-flatlands of Florida. I was one of several extended family members converging from far-flung corners of the country for this year's Christmas in Miami.

I arrived at my aunt and uncle's place first, then almost everyone else arrived simultaneously. The rest of my immediate family, my aunt and uncle from New Mexico, and my cousin and his new fiancee.

We had an interesting dinner at a Japanese restaurant. It was all you can eat, but not in the traditional buffet sense. You simply filled out paper menu cards with what you wanted and how much, and they'd make the food and bring it out as it was ready. The nice thing is, you could order whatever quantity you wanted, so we mostly started by filling out 1's for anything that sounded interesting and then ordered larger quantities of the things we liked. It was very nice to be able to try some new things without having to commit to an entire meal of something that may not be that appetizing to you.

So, I tried sushi for the first time. Better than I'd have thought, but I'm probably not going to go chasing it down any time soon. It is certainly better when enjoyed with the wasabi and thinly sliced ginger served along with it. I tried a few different varieties of salmon, tuna, and crab. Tempura onion (that's Japanese for "onion rings") and chicken, salad with ginger dressing, and an excellent plum wine rounded out the meal.

After quite a bit of conversation at the condo, we went back to the motel, where my dirty laundry awaited a sudsy "round trip." Normally, doing laundry isn't something I enjoy, but when the laundry machines are in a small building right on the beach next to the Atlantic Ocean, it offers an opportunity much better than the usual boring routine.

After loading my clothes into the machine, I took the dog out on a walk along the beach. The sounds of a bustling city faded behind me as the crunchy, swishy noise of my footsteps in the sand took over briefly, until the constant sound of waves crashing on the beach drowned out everything else.

I walked straight out to the water, noticing the sand becoming warmer as I approached the foamy sea. Wet sand began clinging to my toes. The dog, curious as usual, followed me down to the water until the first wave crashed over my feet and his. He doesn't like water very much, and he quickly went back to higher ground.

I began walking North in the gray area that we call shoreline. Some waves barely lapped at my feet while others swirled angrily around my shins, trying to pull me into the ocean as they retreated. The dog kept a watchful eye on me, paralleling my path about ten feet to my left on dry ground.

I paused to turn out toward the blackness. Two lights far out in the water and a tad to my left, maybe from an anchored freighter or a small island, were the only indication of a horizon. A single, solitary airplane climbed out over the ocean to my right, turning toward the southeast before disappearing through a distant cloud. Then, the stars were my only companions for a few moments. The constant sound of the ocean waves crashing on the shore obliterated any sign of civilization, just as long as I didn't turn to look behind me at the lights of Miami.

The clink of the dog's collar reminded me that I did have a furry companion as well, and we continued our walk along the beach. He ventured toward the water a couple of times, only to be chased away again by the white, foamy waves. He returned to being preoccupied with the odd smells and sounds of the beach.

You may have noticed that I think about flying a lot. It is something that I thoroughly enjoy, and many people don't know why. Some people are afraid to fly. Others wonder what the point is. It occurs to me that my walk along the ocean gave me a feeling similar to when I fly solo - It's a chance to reflect, to enjoy the world around me, to watch nature work in subtle and not-so-subtle ways, to escape the world of average, to be released from the petty problems of daily life. And I realized that while I enjoy these solo moments in the sky or on the beach, I'd certainly love to share them with someone special as well.

As I walked, I marveled at the vastness of it all - I could keep walking for a thousand miles and waves would still be crashing against a shoreline; every wave the same, yet every wave different, and every piece of that shoreline being subjected to the subtle, constant changes brought on with each succeeding wave. The sands of time are constantly moving, things are constantly changing in subtle ways that sometimes cannot be noticed.

One thing that I did notice was the presence of a rock on my return trip that I had not seen before. I stopped and let the next wave crash, moving the rock a good six inches farther up the beach. I picked the rock up. I noted that it seemed to be nearly the same size and shape as a human heart. Can a rock have heart? I'm pretty certain that this rock is much older than my heart. What has it seen? Millions of sea creatures swimming by, maybe a faraway land, long, long ago? The rock cannot choose what it sees, it can only be pushed around by the forces of nature...

...or of man. I carry the rock up the beach and deposit it on top of a concrete fence post in front of the motel. I don't have the heart to throw it right back into the ocean, it may have been waiting millions of years to make it to the shore and be plucked out of the water to see what the world is up to. Whether the next person to pick it up will throw it back in the ocean or take it on a land-based journey, I don't know.

What I do know is that I'm glad I'm not a rock. I am free to choose my own path, and so are you. Where the new year will take me, I don't know. I do know that I'll see new things, meet new people, and continue to enjoy my journey. I hope y'all will do the same.

Merry Christmas.

This job's not so bad sometimes...

As many of you know, I'm a professional truck driver trainer, at least until I go back to school in the fall and finish the last year of my Electrical Engineering degree.

It's certainly got downsides - Hard to have much of a social life being on the road all the time, have to deal with all the idiots and traffic on the roads, society looks down upon you, etc. It's got some practical upsides too - Really good money (I'll make less after my degree, at least for a couple of years), getting paid to go places I'd want to go anyway, helping other people achieve financial freedom, and having a corner office. ;)

But, there are certain days that just make every bad part of the job worthwhile. I've got to share the last couple with y'all, it's been almost as cool as flying.

I turned my latest trainee loose on the 9th, and I'll pick up my next one on Friday. In between, I got a solo trip to Santa Clara, CA. It's my fourth west coast run this year (Boise, ID/Santa Clara; Spokane, WA; Hayward, CA; Santa Clara again). I think everyone should make a road trip through the wilds of the American west at some point in their lives. Yes, this is one I'd almost rather drive than fly!

I left Wisconsin on Saturday and made it to Nebraska, continuing to just west of Salt Lake City on Sunday. That's where I'll start my story... And this is what the start of my work day looked like on Monday:



Beats the side of a cubicle for sure!

I proceeded West on I-80 around the south end of the Great Salt Lake and continued towards the Bonneville Salt Flats. I-80 goes straight across the flats - Nary a turn for 45 miles!



Now, there is some similarity to flying here. One of my favorite things when flying is to look down at clouds. Believe it or not, that's possible from 0 AGL out here. This picture is somewhat poor quality because of the salt on my windshield and the low-light conditions causing my flash to go off, but you can see that up ahead is a cloud layer below my altitude. Very cool.



Night fell, and I was in the soup for a while. After crossing Donner Pass and coasting 40 miles downhill into Auburn (mountain driving requires some concentration), I noticed clear skies again. I parked around the corner from my destination in Santa Clara and went to sleep.

California has some very interesting contrasts. Coming down from Donner Pass you're in the wilderness of the Sierras. Once you hit Auburn, it's suddenly populated. It also turns a lot greener when you get down below 1000 MSL and get close to the ocean. The weather down in Santa Clara was a balmy 60 degrees today, with me wearing a t-shirt while the locals sported fleece pullovers. Weather wimps. :P ;)

Unfortunately, California has a disproportionate number of real jerks on the roads. I was almost hoping to have a day to play around and maybe go fly, but I was just as happy to get away from them. I went straight to Stockton and picked up a load headed for Clearfield, UT. Wanting to beat the afternoon traffic around Sacramento, I left as soon as I was loaded. I didn't completely miss the traffic, but it wasn't too bad.

I climbed into the Sierras again, again enjoying the beautiful scenery on my cubicle walls as the late-afternoon sun cast shadows of conifers across the sand-colored mountains. I grabbed a quick bite to eat in Reno as the light faded slowly from the sky. I listened to the last few chapters of EarthCore on my iPod to pass the time as I moved across the vast expanse of Nevada.

This is where it gets good. After a quick pit stop at Carlin, NV I turned off all of the various noisemakers in my truck. One downfall of driving in the winter is that you usually miss out on a lot of scenery because a good portion of your driving is at night. However, this time I could see a lot anyway since the full moon reflecting off the snow-covered ground lit up the night, peacefully revealing the beautiful landscape around me. I saw a meteor streak across the sky.

Much like flying, I enjoyed the passing scenes of nature undisturbed by any noise except the constant growl of the monster under my hood. Such noise is quite easy to tune out for the most part, and a serene feeling settled over me as I watched snow-capped peaks pass by, dotted with dark spots where trees jutted up through the snow.

Another meteor fell, this time tracing a bright vertical line through the sky and disappearing behind a mountain about 20 degrees to my right. I haven't seen two on the same night more than once in my life. I let some of the air out of my seat, lowering myself to get a better view of the night sky. The full moon combined with a lot of haze left over from yesterday (you can see it in the first pic above) blocked out all but the brightest stars, but there were still many more than you'd see near a city these days.

Another meteor fell, a big one. A spectacular fiery streak split the sky, looking more like a comet than anything else. Chunks broke off and made sparks fly around the main tail while the main meteor's glow turned bright green before dying out in a true blaze of glory. I've never seen another one like it.

The whine of the turbocharger as I began ascending a mountain brought some of my attention back to the truck long enough to flip on the engine fan and downshift. I quickly shifted the angry diesel roar again to the back of my mind and enjoyed Mother Nature's fireworks show against the beautiful moonlit backdrop of rough, rocky terrain.

I had the road almost completely to myself, occasionally being passed in the opposite direction by one of my fellow ground-pounding freight dogs. I-80's lanes are far enough apart that I could pretty much ignore them anyway.

Meteors continued to fall, some just a brief flash, some blazing through the sky trailing sparks and flames as if they were attempting to launch themselves back into space. It was a show the likes of which I have never seen before.

As I neared the end of Nevada, I crested a hill just above Wendover where the light show turned manmade. The Pepper Mill, Rainbow, Montego Bay, and Red Garter casinos threw multicolored light everywhere, their tens of thousands of marquee lights vying for the attention of anyone within miles, but their flashy displays simply couldn't compare with the splendor of nature.

I noticed another set of lights, headlights arranged in a long, straight line coming across the salt flats, looking very much like a line of airplanes in the night following an ILS into a big-city airport.

I continued onto the formerly-monotonous stretch of highway crossing the salt flats, leaving the artificial lights of Wendover and the rest of Nevada behind. In the moonlight, the vast expanse of white salt extending for many miles on either side of the road created the illusion that the highway had been built on top of clouds rather than salt deposits. Highway in the sky, indeed. Mountains several miles distant appeared to float above the whiteness surrounding me.

From my warm perch, I watched the last few meteors pierce through the cold, clear sky; nineteen in all. The light show against the backdrop of faintly illuminated scenery gave way to the lights of Salt Lake City; the stars disappeared and the show was over. I maneuvered my behemoth into a parking space, huddled between the other manmade beasts as its roar became a purring idle, keeping me warm for the night so I can sleep.

I have to "work" again tomorrow.

A Walk in the Clouds

Today was a great day - Not only did I get to fly almost 3 hours for free, I went to a concert with my dad and ran into a ton of friends there too!

I'll save the gory details of the flight for the end here, but basically we went to Muncie, IN to retrieve a charter plane that had been left there after an engine failure. I watched my flight instructor fly on the way down, then I flew on the way back. It went really well, and I feel really good about it. :-)

Afterwards, I went downtown and met my dad at Morphy Hall for a concert by Sotto Voce, a world-class tuba/euphonium quartet that was started at UW-Madison several years ago. I saw them with my dad earlier this year (January?) and thoroughly enjoyed both concerts. One of the pieces they played today struck me as the perfect title for this entry - Wilkenschatten, which supposedly translates to "A Walk in the Clouds." (I was flying in clouds earlier.)

The best part was that I ran into a bunch of friends. Tina, who I went to high school with. Toby, who I marched with '91-'93. Adam, who I marched with in '96. The best, though, was some of my cohorts from the UWM Tuba/Euph ensemble... Chewy (who also marched Madison), Russ, and Jon (another Madison alum). I was really happy to see them all!

Okay, now on to the gory details of my flight:

(I believe the word I've used in the subject means "A walk in the clouds"... It's a piece of music that was played at a concert I saw tonight after flying all day, and I thought it appropriate.)

Today I learned a LOT. The mission: Retrieve Chieftain 3591U from MIE. The taxi down was none other than Dakota 8183X, which I've been working on my hi-performance endorsement in the last couple of days.

My day consisted of two flights: One in the back seat watching two experienced pilots (my CFII, Joe, and the charter pilot, Gary) fly IFR (actual IMC for part of it) and a flight back to Madison in the left seat IFR with a good solid hour of actual.

Some impressions of the flight down: Joe can cruise through checklists a lot faster than I can, and he flies with precision. It certainly gave me a standard to aspire to. However, I still have the best eyes: I was the first of the three of us to spot traffic on three different traffic calls.

Joe tried valiantly for the short way around Chicago (V177) but this was our conversation with Clearance for the way down:

"Madison Clearance, Dakota 8183X IFR to MIE" "Dakota 8183X, cleared as file... Uhhh, I don't think that route's gonna work. Taxi to 21 via Juliet and Bravo, we'll have your new routing in a few minutes."

As I expected, our new routing included KELSI, the magic intersection for staying out of the way of Chicago approach.

Anyway... Enough about that. I want to talk about the part where *I* flew! (duh ;-)

After lunch at Vince's Joe and I waited for Gary to get the Chieftain running and then fired up the Dakota. I got out my new Viban view-limiting device. I'm kind of disappointed in it, but with some paper taped to the left-hand side and a sectional in the window, it worked pretty well. It definitely beats the heck out of Foggles, but I think I'm gonna send it back for a Francis hood.

Our filed route for the return trip was Muncie direct Boiler V399 Peotone direct KELSI direct Rockford direct Madison, and we were cleared as filed. I took off and stayed perfectly on the centerline (gotta add all them horses SLOWLY). After takeoff it was on with the hood and over to Indy Center (Todd, were you working today?)

Things went pretty well in the beginning. I'm to the point now where Joe mostly is giving me hints to make things easier rather than "you did this wrong" type of stuff. It feels good!

With the longer cross country there was more time available to fly, to think, to get ahead of the plane. I was doing all the right things. However, all of the flight planning was soon out the window, before we even reached Boiler: "Dakota 8183X, turn left heading 305, vectors to clear Chicago airspace..." And we were on vectors almost until RFD!

Well, we can't just let things be easy right? So my attitude indicator suddenly disappeared behind a cover. OK, no problem, I've done this before. Heck, I feel perfectly comfortable with no AI.

A little TOO comfortable, perhaps. 30 seconds later, the DG failed too. That's all right - Still standard partial panel. Keep the wings level, check 305 on the compass every once in a while, you know the drill.

Then, the compass failed too. No direct heading reference... OK, this is getting tougher now! Extra concentration on holding wings level, and when I notice a departure from that, try to do the opposite for the same length of time. After doing that for a while and working it out OK, the compass came back to life. But you know what that means...

Bam bam bam, things start failing left and right and center too! For the next hour plus, there were never fewer than three instruments covered up, and as many as five!

Altimeter failed, watch the VSI, do the same "averaging" technique as when the compass and DG were both failed. And look, your pitot iced up, there goes the ASI. Pitot heat on, ASI back, Whoops, now your VSI failed too, airspeed is the last pitch reference. And just in case you weren't having enough fun, there goes the turn coordinator!

So at this point I'm trying to maintain 6000 feet and 305 degrees (and keep the airplane right side up) with nothing but the airspeed indicator and the magnetic compass. Yow! Joe did keep peeking at the altimeter just to double-check, but I didn't get the luxury.

Well, all these "failures" had the desired effect. After about 10 minutes of being almost instrument-less, I'd managed to hold my altitude within 60 feet just guesstimating corrections, and hold my heading within 10 degrees. And most importantly, keep the greasy side down and maintain situational awareness (station keeping with VOR's and an NDB despite being on vectors). Then, all at once, Joe pulled all of the instrument covers off and said "OK, you've got all your instruments back. It should feel like a CAVU VFR day now!" And it did, almost.

What changed VERY noticeably was my scan. The cross- checking was almost effortless. I was seeing things I've never seen before. For the first time ever, I noticed a subtle pitch change while I was looking at the airspeed indicator. In 40 minutes or so, my IFR flying went from marginally passable to rock solid.

With the "hacked" Viban setup we also passed into actual conditions at some point without me being able to see it. There was still occasional ground contact I guess, because Joe wouldn't let me take the contraption off.

Finally, somewhere west of Joliet we were given direct Rockford. What with all the vectors and partial (REALLY partial) panel operation, I was a little bit weak on including the navs in the scan, but still better than I've been until the last couple of flights, so overall, OK.

After crossing RFD and getting cleared direct back to Madison, I started the approach checklist:

Position: Just north of RFD
ATIS: Information Golf, 600 broken, 2400 overcast, 2 miles in mist. Sweet!
Instruments: DG and Altimeter set.
Nav radios: Nav2 left on the Madison VOR to continue enroute navigation, Nav1 tuned to localizer, ID'ed (kinda weak), twisted to inbound course, markers set. DME tuned to Madison VOR and ID'ed. ADF tuned to Monah for the miss.
Com radios: Now on Madison approach, number 2 to tower.
Approach briefing: 2700 to WINSR, 182 degrees inbound, 1300-1/2 for localizer, punch 3:36 into the timer, 1060 -1/2 for full ILS, missed climb straight ahead direct MONAH and hold.
Landing checklist: Gas on fullest tank, pump on, Undercarriage down and bolted, Mixture and Prop deferred, Switches on as needed, Seat belts secured.
Listen... And we're once again on vectors.

This is the most prepared I've felt for an approach in a long time. I wasn't spacing on anything, got everything done plenty early and double-checked things too, and even anticipated what ATC was gonna do with me.

We were vectored a fair ways north of the field. Joe finally let me yank the Viban off and use the murk outside as my view limiting device. They vectored us through the localizer and then back on it to let a couple jets pass us, then we were cleared for the approach.

The approach wasn't the prettiest thing in the world - I was practically back on the localizer before my turn inbound, went through, didn't pick a high enough intercept angle, etc... But, in some ways it was an improvement. I called out "Glideslope alive" rather than "Oh crap I'm already above it". I noticed trends in the needles rather than just positions. My only real problem was that I was overcorrecting. However, once I'd gotten firmly established I kept both needles within a dot and a half at the worst.

I first spotted the rabbit at 1300 MSL (440 AGL) and stayed on the glideslope needle as we busted one last cloud and I saw the runway lights at about 300 AGL. This was my third approach in fairly low actual (ie within 20 seconds or so of being a miss). There is nothing quite as satisfying as getting your tail kicked trying to keep that bird flying right through the clouds and then after all your hard work on the approach seeing the runway slowly, magically appear out of the murk right where it's supposed to be. It's a really cool sight.

As we were taxiing back in, Joe said "That's some of the best IFR flying I've seen from you." I concur - Today *was* the best IFR flying I've done. I'm finally starting to feel competent! Yee haw! :-D

Oh, and today's flight put me over the XC PIC requirements for the IR, I got my Wings Phase I signoff, and I only have an hour of performance landings to go to earn my high performance endorsement. Woohoo!

High-performance disappointment.

Today's mission: Earn my high performance endorsement and the right to rent the Piper Dakota. I had the Dakota and CFI reserved yesterday as well, but would not have passed I'M SAFE so I rescheduled for all day today, and hoped to get my 5 hours in.

The plan: One flight VFR, bang out some airwork, a bunch of landings, then go on a cross country using NDB nav and shooting NDB approaches at both ends to burn up the rest of the required 5 hours.

The reality: CFI injured himself somehow and showed up way late. (No problem, he's cheerfully waited for me too - Plus that gave me time to sit in the Dakota and find everything.) Didn't depart first flight until about 12:30, came back down at 1:45 to get food before the Jet Room closed, back up at 5:15 (!) for some more landings, second (OK, would have been third) flight scrubbed. :-(

Believe it or not, the flights actually went pretty well despite my subject line. By the time Joe arrived I'd preflighted and we went up almost right away. I'd flown an SR22 before so I knew I'd need a legful of rudder on the takeoff roll - No surprises there.

Climb rate was around 1500fpm. It sure felt different being at 500+ AGL by the time we reached the opposite end of the runway! Departure cleared us up to 4,000 right away and it was off to the Southeast practice area for some airwork.

First was slow flight. I pulled power, pulled more power, rinse lather repeat, and finally got it down to 55 KIAS, well behind the power curve. Holy rudder force, Batman! I was about to make my leg fall off when I decided that I might as well use the rudder trim. That made things much easier.

The sight picture out the window and down the wing was rather interesting. It seemed like an extreme pitch-up attitude but was in reality less than 15 degrees.

We spent quite a bit of time in slow flight, including turns, climbs, and descents. Next, power off stalls. The Dakota stalls like any other PA28, but I had to learn a bit of a different recovery technique: Rather than letting all of the yoke pressure out right away, I had to slowly relax it to prevent the heavy engine from pitching us down too much.

Now, to power on stalls. I've been eager to do power on stalls in a high(er) performance airplane. I keep reading on here that you can't stall a plane that isn't heavily loaded with full power without exceeding 30 degrees pitch up.

WRONG. Slow to rotation speed, FULL power, 20 degrees pitch up, hold for about 5 seconds, stall. (2612 pounds at takeoff, MGW is 3000). I have yet to find a plane that won't stall at full power and less than +30 degrees when the proper entry technique is used.

We headed back in. I heeded Joe's warnings about not having much to slow the plane down with, and managed an almost-perfect approach: Down from 4500 feet at 130+ knots, level off at TPA long enough to slow to 102 and drop the flaps, and that put me right at the VASI glideslope. I began descending again and only needed a single minor power correction the whole way down.

Any good feelings I had about the approach were erased upon landing, though. I flared just a hair high (maybe two feet higher than I wanted to), then started to let her down too fast, began to recover, bounced lightly once, and then stuck the wheels to the pavement. Not too pretty. But hey, it was my first landing in type - That's a good excuse right?

After eating in the Jet Room and planning a flight (which we never took) to PVB via NDB's only, we went back up a few minutes before sunset for some pattern work. We were tossed back and forth between runways 21 and 14 so much it seemed like a new pattern! Takeoff from 21, left traffic to 14, right traffic to 14, left traffic back to 21, etc. I got in 9 total landings, including 3 at night. (All were stop & go's.) We did some normal, some short, and some soft. All of them were better than my first, but only a couple were real greasers.

My worst problem, however, ended up being the flying part: I'm so used to not reaching pattern altitude until at least the turn to downwind that I blew right through by 100-200 feet more often than not. This plane is to pattern altitude by the time you roll out on crosswind! My patterns weren't the prettiest either, but that's really getting picky. I did one forward slip to land, one engine-out approach and landing, then one greaser with no flaps and we called it a night.

The disappointment part: CFI says he wants to see me do everything we did today again tomorrow before he'll sign me off. *grump* Kinda makes me feel like I didn't accomplish anything today, when I know I did.

No luck.

Well, I didn't get rolling on Thursday. They broke a fuel pump housing trying to get the new pump on and had to order a new one. I called Tim Friday morning and he said "I'm getting you out of there right now." (Good answer, Tim.)

So, I met Bill Swope (and his wife Sharon) and we teamed all the way back to Madison, arriving at about 10 AM on Saturday. Unfortunately, I had to cancel my flight that I'd planned for Saturday afternoon - Flying tired and trying to learn something just doesn't work very well. :-(

Next step? I don't know. I'm gonna ask for a new truck. I mean, a NEW truck. The kind with zeros in the odometer. I don't know if they have any right now though. I may end up teaming back out to MD to pick mine up again. Grrrr. I don't even know if/when it's gonna be done.

The good news: I did get to fly today, and I'm flying again tomorrow.

Stuck in Baltimore

Got to Baltimore Sunday night for a Monday morning delivery...

Emptied out and was sent another load...

That load wasn't going to be ready for 12 hours, got a different load...

Got loaded...

And my truck broke down. Gear-driven fuel pump on the engine failed. They put in a new one, then decided to replace the electric one as well. Took them two more days to get the parts. I'm still here. Ugh.

The upside: I got a suite at the Best Western. Couch, recliner, big TV, wireless internet. Could be worse. But, I'm still bored out of my mind.

Hopefully I'll be rolling later today. I'm supposed to be home tomorrow. Wish me luck.

Starting over

Well folks,

"The ol' bloggy blog," as a friend of mine would call it, needed an overhaul, and here it is. I've been meaning to share some stories (and pictures) from the road that might actually interest the general public... And I'm gonna tell all my flying stories here too. :-)

So, with that in mind, I've deleted all of my old posts with the exception of the one below that still fits within the scope of my "new" blog, and I'll hopefully be writing more often with more interesting stuff. Enjoy!

Autumn Leaves

Today I took my first "leaf flight." This is one of those wonderful experiences that is reserved for pilots and their friends, and one I'd only heard about before today. Rather than seeing only one tree or a small group of trees that have colorful leaves, you can see the beautiful painting created by the various colored trees scattered along the face of the earth. It's quite a sight!

This was only my second VFR flight in the latter half of this year, and my first solo flight since... Well, a LONG time ago. If I don't have a CFI with me, I like to take friends and family along for the ride, so I don't fly by myself much. It was certainly nice to not have the workload of IFR, and to be able to look out the windows!

I took off from runway 32 at about 4 PM. I began by turning to the southwest over Lake Mendota to get some shots of the capitol, then west over Middleton to get some pictures of home and of the new runway at Morey. There weren't a whole lot of great leaf views in this area, it's still mostly green.

The State Capitol and the rest of the isthmus from about 2000 feet over Lake Mendota.

I turned North a bit west of Morey and got a traffic call. It's amazing how small an airplane looks from just a mile (or about 15 seconds head-on closure) away! I got a picture of the Cessna off my left wing, and continued on my way toward the Dells. I got some pictures at Devil's Lake. From there, I roughly followed the Wisconsin River up until I was abeam R-6904 and then headed towards Wausau. I got excellent service from Chicago Center and Minneapolis Center and got a couple of pics of other planes, including a Mesaba Saab 900 (MeSaaba? ;-) turboprop landing on runway 35 at CWA.

Devil's Lake from the north at 4500 feet.

The leaves were best right up in the Wausau area. Entire hillsides spackled with deep reds and bright oranges and yellows surrounded me. I clicked quite a few photos of those, and also of the company I work for. Finally I slid into the pattern for runway 30 at AUW to make it an "official" cross country (110nm).

A hillside near Wausau just before sunset.

The folks at Wausau were very nice - It appears to be a family-owned operation and they have lots of historical info, model planes hanging from the ceiling, and good (if a bit old) facilities. Certainly a place I'd stop at again.

After chatting with them for a while, I took some pictures of N2159Q, my steed for the day. I got a great one with the plane silhouetted in the sun. Then, I flew off into the sunset. Well, almost... I took off on 300 and headed straight out. I tried to find a nearby corn maze, but I wasn't sure of the exact location so I curved back around to the south.

Warrior N2159Q, my wings for this particular adventure.

My initial climb was to 3500... I wanted to let the sun set and then climb to see if I could get a second look at it. No such luck (What should I really expect, it was only a Warrior) but it was a spectacular sunset and I got lots of great photos.

The eastern sky opposite the sunset. The haze layers create an interesting rainbow effect with just the red through blue hues that can only be seen from the sky, and unfortunately can't be completely captured by a camera - But here's my best try.

The Wisconsin River meanders below a beautiful sunset.

No words needed.

The return trip was pretty uneventful. Pilotage was a tad more difficult since the ground was now poorly lit, but the city lights weren't really coming on a whole lot yet and neither were the airport beacons. In fact, the first beacon I saw was Portage (though I did see the REILs at Wautoma) and that was when I was nearly home (read: it was dark enough that the city lights were on too...). So, I flew on the 175 radial from AUW until I could pick up Madison and ride V177. However, I decided to get some pictures of the capitol at night so I turned toward the west side.

The only "event" of the night was when I was headed towards the west side and noticed the lights were on at Camp Randall. I asked Approach about it and they said there was no TFR tonight. (The Badgers were in Columbus pounding the heck out of Ohio State, the lights were on for some high school games.)

The capitol and isthmus at night, this time from above the western part of Lake Monona facing North.

Well, OK, there was one more event. The breaker popped on my landing light sometime during the approach. So, I got to do my first no-light landing since my private training a year and a half ago. It's a lot more difficult to do when you're expecting the light to be there (ie you don't see your CFI switch it off!) and you're almost on the ground before you realize it's gone. I flared a little high, added some power, and just flew down the runway a ways until I felt more stable and put her down. After clearing the runway I flipped the switch off, reset the breaker, and switched it back on and it worked fine. An interesting end to a very neat flight.

A free flight! :-) Review of the Diamond DA40 Star

I first got a chance to fly the Diamond DA40 Star in December at a "new plane shoot-out" where several manufacturers came together for a debate and to offer demo rides in their planes. That day, I flew the DA40 after just stepping out of a Cirrus SR22.

Today, I had the opportunity to give the DA40 a chance to stand on its own - Comparing it to an airplane with nearly twice the engine power and a much higher price tag just isn't fair! I also did not notice any "stick parallax" today like I did after just having flown the Cirrus with its side-mounted stick.

I had been hoping they'd have a G1000-equipped DA40 by now. No such luck - I was stuck with steam gauges this time. This plane was equipped with Garmin 530/430 GPS/NAV/COMs, 340 audio panel, and 327 transponder. There is a King KAP 140 two-axis autopilot with altitude preselect. Engine instrumentation, as with all DA40's, is provided by a Vision Microsystems VM1000 display, which includes all the regular instruments (MP, tach, fuel pressure/flow, oil temp/pressure, etc) as well as CHT and EGT for all cylinders and a fuel computer.

Diamond is certainly king when it comes to options: You can get your plane with Bendix-King avionics, Garmin avionics, or glass cockpits from Avidyne or Garmin. It's quite refreshing to have such a wide range of choices.

Getting into the Diamond Star is much easier than a lot of GA planes, especially for the back-seaters: There is a back door on the left side, a luxury that no other four-place single has that I'm aware of. Front-seat passengers can each get in on their own side of the plane thanks to the large canopy which tilts up and forward. To get into the front seat, you just grab a hold of one of the canopy supports, step on the step, step on the wing, step into the plane, and sit down. No stepping on seats, no scooting over, no ducking, and no slithering around to get in back.

Getting situated in the plane was simple as well - First, lower and lock the canopy. All four headsets plug in to the same panel, which is located between the pilot seats and easily accessible to all. The restraint system consists of an integrated lap belt and single shoulder harness similar to what you'd find in your car. The one unusual thing is that the seats are not adjustable due to the control stick being integrated into the seat. Instead, the rudder pedals are adjustable. At 6'4" and 250 lbs, I am not a small guy, but I do fit into the DA40 without bumping my knees or my head on anything. The 2004 models have even improved a little more on the knee room for those of you unlucky enough to be bigger than me.

All of the controls are easily accessible. The center console is home to (back to front) the trim, fuel selector, engine controls, cabin heat controls, and parking brake. The control stick has a trigger-style PTT, a control wheel steering button (momentarily disengages autopilot), an autopilot disconnect, and electric trim switch. The panel is laid out so that the only controls to the right of the radio stack are the buttons on the VM1000. The electrical switches are conveniently arranged in a neat little row at the bottom of the panel.

Speaking of electrical, everything on this plane is. In the event of an alternator failure, it is easy to conserve energy as the DA40 has an "Essential Bus" which powers only the necessary equipment to safely get on the ground (Nav/Com 1, transponder, flight instruments, etc.). To conserve power via this method, switch the Master off (both sides) and the Essential Bus switch on. Once the main battery is depleted, the AI (backup "steam gauge" AI on the glass cockpit models) and the panel floodlight can be powered by a second backup system (separate batteries) which is activated by tripping the Emergency switch (located under a red cover to avoid accidental activation).

Power is provided by the familiar IO-360, mated to an attractive 3-blade wood-composite prop by MT Propeller (a standard 2-blade metal Hartzell prop is also available). There is also a "SlickStart" ignition system, with Unison's LASAR ignition available as an optional replacement. Our hot-start took only a couple of blades of the 3-blade prop.

On a day like today, normally GA aircraft would be departing runway 21, but 3-21 was closed for some sort of work, so we had to taxi to 14, plenty of distance to test the castering nosewheel system. The rudder actually does have a little authority at taxi speeds and can be used for long, slow corrections. Otherwise, turns are made with the brakes. It's a different feel than a steerable nosewheel, but I'm sure I could get used to it. While it's more difficult to make the wider-radius turns, you can literally turn on a dime with the castering nosewheel system.

After a brief runup just like you'd do in any other piston-powered plane, we took the runway for takeoff, with a welcome relief: You don't have to switch the Garmin transponder on manually. As soon as you're moving at 40 knots during the takeoff roll, it will switch itself from Standby to Mode C automatically. I'm sure I'm not the only one to forget the transponder from time to time. I hear Madison Departure telling somebody to check their transponder almost every time I fly - And no, it's not always me!

Let me pause here to talk about the DA40's visibility. I can't imagine a single-engine airplane getting much better than the DA40 in this regard! The wing is long and narrow, with the leading edge located just about adjacent to the pilot's seat back, so you can still get a great downward view despite the low wing. However, the forward visibility is really spectacular. With the single-piece canopy, low panel, and sloping cowl, you can see vertically from about 30 degrees down to straight up, and horizontally for about 210 degrees from the pilot seats, with not a single support bar to block the view! This is truly a "panoramic" view and is one of the best features of the DA40.

Finally, the takeoff roll: Once aligned with the centerline, add power and the rudder has enough authority to maintain directional control almost right away. The low-drag airframe seems to accelerate to rotation speed (59 KIAS) faster than comparable metal singles. Just a tiny hint of back pressure on the stick, and the Star lifts smoothly into the sky.

Due to the aforementioned visibility features, you can actually watch the runway drop away from you out the front of the plane, rather than seeing only sky and cowling. This made for a bit of trouble selecting the proper climb attitude at first, but I managed to settle into an 80-knot climb after several seconds, which resulted in a brisk 1,000 fpm climb rate.

The aileron and elevator controls in the DA40 operate pushrods to the control surfaces rather than cables, which gives the controls a positive, solid yet sensitive feel. In fact, the plane felt very stable and responsive in the roll axis for the entire flight.

The pitch control took a bit more getting used to, simply because I'm used to flying beat-up 30-year-old planes. The Star's responsiveness led to a bit of difficulty in holding the correct pitch and even setting the correct trim at first. By the end of the flight, I found that its stability was superb and that the best way to control the airplane was to not even hold the stick at all, but to widen my hand into a circle around the stick, so that I was no longer even touching the stick. When a control input is needed, I just had to move my hand in the correct direction and put a bit of pressure on the stick, then go back to letting the plane fly where I pointed it, again without my hand touching the stick. This plane is so stable that it could put an autopilot to sleep on a long cross country! However, it is also responsive enough to be delightful to fly, and us flesh-and-blood pilots can relax a bit and enjoy the spectacular outside view.

Stalling the DA40 is almost a non-event. Power off, flaps down, pull, pull, pull, and while the stall horn was blaring away, all the plane really did was settle gently, buffeting a bit, then buffeting a little more sharply as the airspeed dropped even further. It never dropped a wing and behaved very well throughout.

Performance was impressive when compared to other fixed-gear, 180hp singles such as the Archer. As I mentioned before, climb rates around 1000fpm are normal. At roughly 23" MP and 2400 RPM, we were seeing around 145 KTAS.

Finally it was time to land. Pattern speeds for the DA40 are 90, 80, 70. However, since we landed on a long straight-in final, I kept the speed up until about 3 miles out. While the DA40's low-drag airframe makes slowing down a bit more difficult than other planes in its class, it did not take much effort to get down below 108 KIAS and add approach flaps, then down to 91 KIAS for landing flaps. Since it was a windy day, we kept to 70 over the fence and I managed to get down with only a single, gentle bounce.

The DA40 is, in some areas, better than any plane in its class. The panoramic view is certainly one of those areas. The speed is another, besting the Tiger by about 10 knots, and most of the other 180hp fixed-gear singles by 30 knots thanks to the low-drag composite design. You have more choices for avionics than other manufacturers offer: Two traditional "steam-gauge" packages, and two glass cockpits.

The safety record of the DA40 so far is excellent. No fatal crashes, no post-crash fires. The fleet size is still relatively small, but I expect that the safety record will continue to be fairly good - This plane is easy to handle and doesn't attract the "more-money-than-brains" type of pilots that often do stupid things and wreck planes.

The Diamond Star with the King avionics goes for $188,900 and with the G1000 for $224,900. They now have a version with an O-360 and fixed-pitch prop as well that goes for something like $176,000 which should appeal to flight schools. The normal injected, CS prop version really should make a good fun cross-country bird.

Here are some Pictures of the plane (and me) just after the flight.

For more info:
Diamond DA40 Star:
http://www.diamondair.com/contentc/da40frame.htm

VM1000 Engine Management System:
http://www.visionmicrosystems.com/product/vm1000.html

Garmin G1000 glass cockpit:
http://www.garmin.com/products/g1000/

SlickStart and LASAR ignition systems:
http://www.unisonindustries.com/