Thanksgiving Weekend

After several weeks of horrible weather - the sun came out, and more importantly the clouds were high enough to allow flight. I could hardly wait to get to the airport!
No particular destination in mind, I simply flew, selecting my route from minute to minute. I felt some practice was in order, so worked on turns around a point, slow flight, and steeps turns. I then spotted Mt Rainier peeking through scattered clouds in the distance. Oh! Must go that way. Flew low over hills and ridges and snow covered trees. A perfect way to get into the holiday spirit, flying over a Christmas Card view.

Ending up near the field of some good friends, it seemed a good idea to "drop in" for a short visit. This field at 2000 feet, with trees and power lines to avoid, was until recently way too much Pucker Factor for me. This was my second visit and I was comfortable going in and departing.

The Great Adventure - Part One Eastward

With a new pilots license and less than 100 hours, this trip is a true Adventure, and thus it was named and thus began the practice of naming flying trips. My friend Michelle bought, on Ebay, an airplane. A beautiful Hawker Fury replica Bi-Plane. It was her idea that the two of us fly to Michigan to bring it home. She and I would spend a few days in Michigan getting the Hawker ready to fly. Her hubby, Clay would fly out commercial and join us. Flying home would be Michelle in her single-seat, open cockpit plane, Clay and I in my Cessna 172, Isabo. Departed Chehalis (CLS) Friday June 4, 2004 at 4:30 pm. (J flying) We passed south of Mt Rainier out over the Stewart Range. I’d made a flight over the Cascades, once, following the passes. I was afraid of the Stewarts wilderness but they proved to be no problem and Isabo climbed well. We came out over Lake Chelan, lookd at the airport and noted “not a good idea” due to a cliff/drop off at one end. Stopped at Grand Coulee (3W7) airport. Note. Many of our airport stops and fly-overs were to scout for the return trip which would require frequent refueling for the Hawker and rests for Michelle as an open cockpit takes a toll and this plane carries a light fuel load. At Coeur D Alene (COE), ID. We stopped for fuel, wanting to go on to our planned first night goal, but realizing that we’d be pushing into mountainous terrain in rapidly fading light so stopped for the night. Tent up on the grass at the edge of fueling paved area, we had beef jerky “steak” and water for dinner and loved it. Awake just after dawn we heard what sounded like sprinklers. Poking my head out I noted heads right along the edge of the parking area, pointing directly at our tent. We quickly drug the tent out of range, mere seconds before the sprinkler cycled on!
Saturday June 5 Day 2. Left Coeur D’Alene (M flying) shortly after dawn, landing at Thompson Falls (THM) MT for breakfast. We were delighted with this small airport featuring open approaches, good runway, pilot lounge, fuel and courtesy car. Breakfast consists of bottled water and breakfast bars while we studied the sectional on Isabo’s elevator. It felt like heaven to be off on this amazing trip, doing the “classic map on elevator” thing. Departed for Ronan (7S0) (J flying). After fueling, flew southeast past Helena, MT arriving at Three Forks MT (9S5) where I made a landing at pattern height over 5,000 feet. Hot and breezy. Attendant at FBO told us “Little ladies, in this part of the country we fly early in the morning and by now are settling into a hotel to spend the afternoon around the pool” It was around 1:00 and we discounted his advice labeling him a “sexist”. We are woman, we are pilot, we can fly when we want. A little heat isn’t going to stop us. Departed about 1:30 (M flying). Heading through flathead pass and out over a valley toward the Crazy Mountains. We found them aptly named. We flew just over their southern trailing edge finding the entire route to be hot, very turbulent and thoroughly miserable - Crazy. Michelle was exhausted from trying to keep Isabo straight and level and I was nearly airsick. Arrived Columbus, MT (6S3) about 3:00. Total distance 98.7 nm and it took us 1.5 hours. I called Mike to announce our location by saying “We have officially arrived in hell”. A courtesy car, good food, gallons of water and a motel with good beds, quickly improved our opinion.
Sunday June 6 Day 3 Decided to eat a full breakfast, thinking that part of the reason we were so tired the day before is because we had not eaten. Departed Columbus about 7:30 am. (M flying) Flew over Big Horn Canyon taking many photos. At Sheridan (SHR), WY. Spent time fueling, checking sectional then left for Devils Tower (J flying). We flew around and around the tower taking pictures from every angle. It was like being in the movie “Close Encounters of the Third Kind”. Continued on with Black Hills-Clyde Ice, SD (SPF) as our next stop. Elevation is 3931, but we learned upper 90’s temp has density altitude at 7,400. I made my first grass landing of the trip, second in my career, with base turn right over I-90. Not a beautiful landing, but nothing to be ashamed of either. Greeted by a young man who offered to “top us up” an offer in retrospect, that we should have declined. We took a long break, studying a huge aeronautical map that covered all of one wall in the pilot lounge and featured a measuring string which fascinated us as we’d not seen such a thing before. Density altitude had not changed when we departed, but Isabo took to the air smoothly and efficiently. (M flying). Our plan was to pass Sturgis and climb southeast to Custer County, SD (CUT) Elevation 5602, where we would stay the night. Since it was early afternoon, we would have plenty of time to be tourists and see Mt Rushmore from the ground. Here is where our fueling decision came into play. While Isabo took off handily in the density altitude, she was not climbing well and began to overheat after we passed Sturgis. We stopped the climb and circled, but the needle continued to rise toward red. A quick mutual decision turned us for the 5-mile trip back to Sturgis (49B) SD. We landed in horrible heat and the place seemed deserted. Eventually we found a mechanic who directed us to the pilot lounge, and we stepped inside. Its air conditioned! Oh heavenly cool air. There were two recliners so we settled in, reading, napping and keeping a sharp eye on the outside temp. We kept expecting it would cool down so we could depart. Temp rose from mid to high 90’s and held. We used the courtesy car and drove into town, sight-see a bit (too dispirited to even remember to take pictures) got a meal and a room and spent the night.
Monday, June 7. Day 4 Now we had well and truly learned our lesson about early flying so were pre-flighting in the dark, and took pictures of the sun just breaking the horizon as we headed SE to take a look at Mt Rushmore from the air We found the mountain without problem and marveled at it as we flew past, (M flying) Me taking photos. We also circled and get some good shots of the huge rock carving of Chief Crazy Horse. I vowed to return and enjoy these monuments doing the tourist thing on the ground. We turned east to overfly Bandlands National Park. Amazing. Stark. Stunning. We could hardly contain our excitement, constantly urging each other to “Look at that!” We circled and took pictures and I found myself imaging what it would have been like to be traveling west in a covered wagon and find yourself confronted with this seemingly impassible, tortured land! Our next stop is Wall (6V4) SD where there are no services, or people. A short stop and we’re on our way. Our route follows I-90 across miles and miles of flat South Dakota and on into Minnesota. Its farm land that all looks alike. Little towns popped up on either side of the highway, each with water tower, grain silos and clumps of tree, all as identical as the land around them. As we move into Minnesota the lakes increased, but there were so many we could hardly determine which one’s were passing. Our planned stop was Worthington MN (OTG) but high winds across the runway changed our plans so we continued on to the next airport along I-90. Jackson (MJQ) offered a grass runway right into the wind now at 32 knots. M was flying and I was damn glad she was! The wind is so strong that tall grass is laying down flat. On the base turn it felt like the wind wanted to tip Isabo over. I could tell that M was a bit nervous herself, but she made an excellent landing and Isabo came to almost an immediate stop – with no application of brakes. The combination of grass and high wind simply stopped us. We taxied in with great care, the wind buffeting us like we’ve never experienced. The only tie downs were right out in the open, tail into the wind. Fortunately the guy running the FBO came out and offered us parking on the leeward side of the FBO, encouraging us to cozy in as close as possible where he double-chocked Isabo. We were happy to be down and safely secured. Offered the courtesy car, we headed into town for lunch. The wind continued to blow so hard that birds could not fly – I do not exaggerate! While we were eating a small bird was blown into the bushes near the window and hung on for dear life, seemingly grateful for a bit of respite. Realizing that flying was not going to happen we used the car to explore the area and ended up driving south into Iowa visiting Spirit Lake. Back at the airport, we inflated the bed and slept in the FBO lounge with the wind trying to blow the door open.
Tuesday, June 8, Day 5 Continuing along I-90 the route was long, flat and boring. To break the monotony I dropped down to 500 feet and 500 feet from the freeway and zoomed along for several minutes enjoying the feeling of speed and imagining the response of people in cars. “Hey Pa, there’s a plane right over there!” I envisioned photos of us appearing in family albums. Our first stop was Prairie du Chien (PDC) in Wisconsin. We had not realized the airport was over the state line, so inadvertently added another State! Departing, I was thrilled to fly southeast along the Mississippi. I’d always pictured it being a wide river and it is, but it’s so dotted with islands and swampy areas that it seems much smaller or like several individual rivers. The 158nm on to Joliet (JOT) IL was long and difficult, with visibility lousy, ceilings low, lots of haze. The entire area is riddled with huge radio towers that are 3-4 thousand feet high (AGL) with invisible guy wires spreading a mile around them. There are no hills, to put towers on here. Its flat flat flat. I was flying and M followed carefully on the sectional alerting to upcoming tower hazards. We were both tired when we reach Joliet, but took a short break and M took the pilots seat. We were anxious to reach our final destination. Humidity and heat rose as we rounded the end of Lake Michigan and turned north for our final miles. We were getting good at spotting airports now and had little problem finding the green jewel that is Watervliet (40C). M made her usual excellent landing and we were guided to a parking spot by our host. We had just flown 1,697 nm and the first half of The Great Adventure was complete.

Check Ride

Two simple words. But they bring levels of anxiety that are difficult to describe unless you’ve lived through the experience. A student pilot, having met all the requirements of flight, ground school, and the written test begins prep for the big final. Lessons become practice and review, learning what to expect during the checkride. Then the day arrives.

I’d like to say the experience was wonderful. I’d like to say I remember it well. Neither of those statements is even close to the truth. I was a nervous, near-wreck. I’d heard the horror stories of students flunking for seemingly minor imperfections. I flew to Kelso my mind busily reviewing to the point that nearing the airport I had to stop the internal litany with a stern reminder “Fly the Plane!” A note on this phrase. CFI’s teach this to students early on. When things are not going right, or if there should be an emergency, the very first thing a pilot must do is Fly the Plane. This probably seems simply obvious to those who have never found themselves behind a yoke, but believe it or not, any number of distractions from the simple to an emergency can cause a pilot to not be focusing where he should, on flying the plane. So when a student is rattled because of a poor landing and takes off to go around again, neglecting say to raise the flaps, the instructor corrects and admonishes “Fly the Plane!”

Okay. So I’m now flying the plane and manage a beautiful landing at Kelso. The last one of the day, I might add. The rest of the next 3 hours is a blur that went by in minutes and yet lasted forever. Maneuvers I’d been doing excellently and to standards suddenly were beyond my grasp. I practically couldn’t differentiate between up and down. The check ride examiner was a nice guy with no fangs or horns, but I feared his power. He held my future as a pilot in his hands. The one skill I clearly remember demonstrating is the engine out emergency landing.

“You’ve lost your engine.” The examiner stated as he pulled the throttle back to idle. I, pilot in command, calmly setup the plane for best glide, looked around, selected a flat pasture one mile away and began gliding toward it. Asked if I thought this pasture was close enough to make, I assured him that was the case and continued descending, but with newly planted apprehension.
What did he know that I didn’t? It was close enough, I was sure. Wasn’t I? In the end I stuck to my plan and now the plane was only a few hundred feet above the ground, field of tall grass coming closer as we descend still. He’s not going to make me land is he? I might get down, but what about taking off again. Is the field long enough? What the hell! Finally I spoke aloud, voice wavering. “You’re not going to make me land are you?”
To this day, I’m sure he enjoyed an internal chuckle as he allowed me to add power and climb.

At last the flying was over and I taxied to parking knowing that I would not become a pilot this day. In the office he began pulling out paperwork and I stood, mute, mind churning with dreadful thoughts. I’ll have to face the shame, telling Russ, Mike and friends that I had failed. No problem. I’ll practice and schedule another check ride and get it for sure next time. Then his voice pulls me back to the present. “Well, I’m going to give you your pilots license, but I want you to consider this a license to learn how to fly.” Afraid to speak, I stood voiceless as he filled in that precious piece of paper – a temporary license; to be followed by what would be one of my most precious possessions – a plastic card that declared my right to WINGS!
Paper in hand, I thank him, and walk out, head high, proud to share the good news with Mike who is waiting his turn to earn his license. As I drove home, Mike did earn that license so here we were two new pilots on the same day. I love to tease that I am, however, The Senior Pilot in the family.

Thursday, October 23rd 2003 - I am a Pilot!

The CFI

You’ve all met “Bob”. I’ve asked if I can reveal his true identity. Masked no more – He is Russ M. – Creator of Pilots. This post is about how he managed to live through having me as a student. There is an old CFI saying that goes something like this. “Be careful, all the students ARE trying to kill you.” The saying is old, and fortunately most of the CFI’s as well. Good ones don’t let their students kill them, that being the main point of early instruction. I don’t know if Russ would agree, but I don’t think he truly feared for his life at any point during our time together, but I do know that I provided, well, challenges. I was his first, probably only student to …

• Land so short on 33 I missed the runway altogether. He pointed out the error of my ways as we bounced delicately across the bump where grass and runway meet.
• Get lost on her solo cross country causing him to receive a call from the FAA.
• Learn to land by body language, requiring a second solo.
• Cause him to receive compliments on his manhood from my husband and daughter based on his ability to teach me and willingness to get into a plane to do so. Not wanting to embarrass Russ, I’ll not share the exact nature of those compliments.

I’m also his only former student to…

• Be detained at an airport by Homeland Security, Police and Border Patrol. (That’s another story to follow.)

In spite of the challenges, Russ got me through and during the same period created pilots out of two friends, and my husband. The photo is Russ (second from right) and those four pilots he created.

The Plane

Always, there is some event that starts movement. This time its friends with a plane inviting Mike (hubby) and I to join them for a flight to Bremerton for dinner. Arriving, I spot a Cessna 150 with a For Sale banner hanging on its prop. I’m compelled to approach and discover that not only are planes affordable, (I actually thought the 150 I’d been training in was worth $100,000.) but that this particular 150 was for sale for a mere $15,000! “I could buy a plane.” I announced. “I could buy this plane. “
“You don’t need a plane” was Mike’s response. I said nothing, but vowed to myself “I’m going to buy a plane.” Mike knows me. He envisioned a plane in our future, so a few weeks later started flying lessons with Russ. By early Spring the decision had been made to buy a plane and we began our research. So many planes, so many features to consider, so much to learn about buying a used plane. We asked. We learned. We began serious shopping.
Sunday, July 20th, 2003 a pilot lands a beautiful Cessna 172 at Chehalis Airport for a pre-purchase inspection. At noon I tell the man he has just sold his plane. “I own an airplane!” I chant while jumping up and down with glee. “I own this airplane!”
You’ve met Hugo, my first love, but I turned from him with hardly a look back and fell head over heels for my Isabo. For those of you who have not owned a plane, this anthropomorphism of an inanimate object might seem strange, but many pilots will admit that their planes do become like friends and lovers. In fact, here is a poem that I particularly like that says it all.

The Affair
By Hansel Herrera

Early in the morning as you awake
I am not home, you wonder why
I was with her, I cannot lie
Making sure that she would fly

I devote my nights to her
Sometimes leaving you alone
As I tend to her every need
And sometimes forget your own

I leave you and the girls at home
As I seek comfort in her love
And escape to her embrace
Dedicating nights to her desire

My hands are scarred from touching her
My heart is bruised from leaving you
But I will never change a thing
From this affair I have with wings.

Lost on Cross or The Hiding Airport

I’d done careful flight planning. My attention-to-detail CFI, Bob, had reviewed my plan and given my Solo Cross Country flight his blessing.

But now I’d been flying the Cessna 150 for a very long time and had to admit that I didn’t know where I was, not exactly, anyway. Oregon. Somewhere south of Hillsboro. Looking for Salem. Where was that river? Advice given was “just spot the river and follow it right in.” Unfortunately, I couldn’t see anything that looked like a river, so I kept traveling south and adding some east, thinking I’d gotten too far west. Visibility was over 10 miles in haze, ceiling kept me just under 3,000. I constantly referred to my sectional, comparing roads, towns, power lines. Yes! That had to be where I was, just a little further I should see that airport…but then the sight picture didn’t match the sectional and I’d start again.

It was time to take stock and admit that I was totally lost. Two additional problems were vying for attention – decreasing fuel load, increasing bladder load. What to do? I could declare an emergency on 121.5. No, I’m not really in an emergency, plane is running fine, fuel low but not dangerously so, and I’m pretty sure calls of nature are not emergencies. I started looking for any airport at all, spotting one small one without markings that looked way too short to be safe.

I have to admit that fear of failure took control at this point and my decisions were not positively affected. Can’t let anyone know I got lost, they will make fun of me because I’m female. I’d neglected to take note of time, and now had no idea how long ago I’d left Hillsboro, my last positively known position. I dialed in 122.0 remembering using Flight Watch on a training flight. I called using my best professional pilot voice, positive I didn’t sound as lost and scared as I now was. No response. I double checked radio settings and frequency; tried again – nothing. Okay, I’m on my own here. Be calm, fly the plane, assess, plan, fly the plane, breathe!

Decision made. Go exactly 10 more minutes on this heading, don’t find an airport, turn around and go back north. But then I saw it – a big airport with a large lake to the southwest. What? Salem does not have a lake!

I spotted the control tower, so figured it must be class D, but there is no controlled airport anywhere on the Seattle sectional that is near a lake. I must communicate. But to whom? I’m sure to be outside their space at 3,000 so circle looking for a name on the runway or hangar roof. No luck. I’m seriously in need of landing, so circle, attempting to spot a windsock or rising smoke to determine wind direction. After circling several times I noted some commuter-sized planes using one runway so realize wind and that I want to choose the other shorter one. But I should not enter Class D space without communicating. From study materials I remember transponder codes 7500 7600 7700. One means ‘no radio’, but which one? Not good to accidentally announce a hijacking post-911.

Then I remember signal lights from the tower. I fly out to 2 miles from the airport and at pattern height fly slowly right toward the mid-field tower. No green light. No red light. I waggle my wings, nothing. I turn a 360 go back out and again approach, nada. At one-half mile out its decision time, so I turn for left downwind and land the plane. Taxiing off the runway I’m met by not one but two vehicles and the men inside don’t look friendly. They point me to a tie down area and the second I open the door are demanding to know why I’ve just landed without communicating. I calmly announce, while walking toward the FBO, I’d be happy to discuss it all but not until I’ve used the bathroom. Mouths dropping open they simply follow along politely pointing the way as we enter the building.

Relieved but still shaken, I ask the young woman at the counter where I am.
“Eugene, she replies. “And you better call the tower right now. They are waiting to talk you.”

Tower was not a nice man, displaying no sympathy for a student pilot lost on a cross country. He indicated he would be contacting my CFI and the FAA. I responded “yes” or “no” as required and took the tongue lashing trying not to cry.

Now for the real trauma. I called Bob and my husband. Neither was thrilled to hear where I was, but both were supportive and understanding. I calmed my nerves in the airport restaurant with a gooey chocolate dessert, fueled the plane and purchased a Kalamath Falls sectional - Oh, that’s why I couldn’t find a Class D Airport near a lake – I’d flown clean off the Seattle sectional!

I learned some valuable lessons that day, the most important being the need to keep a sharp awareness of time in the air. I also learned that the FAA does have sympathy for student pilots – Tower was later chastised for not paying attention, recognizing there was a problem, and giving me light signals.

Gathering Skills

Like with every other endeavor, the student pilot has to master many new skills. As training continued, I learned to make radio announcements “Cessna 2346Juliet is 5 miles out entering on the 45 for a left downwind for 33” steadily becoming comfortable with a new language. I became adept at making 90 180 and 360 degree turns while maintaining altitude, recognizing when the airplane needed power or pitch changes thus moving well through a third dimension.

A note on finding airports. You would think that a large flat place typically covering several acres of open space, including a wide road (runway) right in the middle edged by low flat white buildings (hangars) would be easy to find. Unfortunately, you realize that from the air everything looks different. Spotting roads you drive on every day, shopping malls, freeways, even your own home, is surprisingly difficult. I think airports actually hide from student pilots. (More on that later)

Lessons include review of the basics but introduce new skills as well. I soon add new kinds of landings and take offs – Short field, soft field. Airports with towers, night flying, turns around a point, slow flight, holding a heading, just to list a few. There are specific and prescribed skills that a pilot must learn, and eventually demonstrate to the satisfaction of a Check Ride Examiner in order to earn a Pilots License. One of these is..The Solo Cross Country. Tomorrow I’ll tell that tale.

Upward. Now Onward

In my story of acquiring wings I left you having reached the heady goal of flying solo. The freedom is, however, restricted to in the pattern to practice takeoffs, landings, and radio communication, and out to the practice area to work on ascents, descents, turns, and stalls. I’ve inserted a diagram of The Pattern which is the world of a student pilot, in that most of our time is spent here going around and around, up and down. An hour’s practice time for me added up to 10 or so “trips around the pattern” with landings. Just as I began to chafe at the limitations, Bob added a dual (means with instructor) cross country trip to another airport.
So many things to learn, that the planning takes longer than the actual flight.
Reading a sectional. Seattle (portion shown above)covers all of Washington State, a bit of western Idaho, and Oregon as far south as Corvallis. On it, I plan the route of flight, noting waypoints, such as other airports along the way, rivers and mountains, for example.
Airport Facility Directory, which covers all of WA, OR, ID, MT and WY. Here I look up runway length and headings, pattern direction, communication frequencies – basically anything a pilot needs to know about a destination airport before landing.
Specialty tools. Plotter – used to measure/mark direction and distances on the Sectional. E6B – used to deduce expected fuel use and winds.
Flight Plan. Having planned the flight, all the information is noted on a form and called into Flight Watch a telephone or radio service that gives weather information, opens and closes flight plans, and provides pilots with additional information that may be available for their route of flight. By the time I’d started to understand enough to make the flight, home seemed a lot more comfortable, but I was eager for the challenge. We found the airport; I landed the plane making several circuits of the pattern, and returned back to my home airport. My first non-home airport was like any other first – fright to fulfillment.

Harvest Time

Today I heard a helicopter and spotted it hovering over the property behind mine. Back and forth it flitted. Finally I spotted a fluffy bundle hanging below and realized the bird was harvesting Christmas trees! I'd seen video and read about this use for helicopters, but now was a chance to observe in person. At the farm I marveled at the speed and efficiency of the process. Grabber dangling, the heli hovered for mere seconds, then lifted up with a bundle of trees, slid immediately sideways and expertly dropped them into an open area, each load lined up perfectly next to the previous. Each 1/2 mile round trip took about 3 minutes. The bundles looked to be about the size of a small pickup truck. Trees moved with amazing speed, no damage to ground or surrounding trees, handily placed for loading into waiting transport trucks. Impressive skill shown by this pilot. A wonderful treat for me.

Seeking the $100 Hamburger

Flying out for food is frequently used as "a good excuse to go flying." With pilots, it doesn't take much, and food provides a direction in which to go.

Bremerton - Airport Diner. 360 674-3720. Best on-field restaurant in the Pacific Northwest. If you fly, you've likely been here. If not, go! Drop in on a Tuesday for Beef Stroganoff, Sunday for above average brunch. Fish and chips they are famous for.

Jefferson County Airport - Spruce Goose Cafe. 360 385-3185. It's a simple home-style place with good food, great pie, friendly service. On a sunny day the deck's picnic tables offer a view of the runway and Olympic Mountains that refreshes the mind and soul. The museum on the field is well worth a visit and it's a good cause as well.

Hoquiam Airport - Lana's Diner. 360 533-8907. Be sure to call first to check hours of operation. Real short during Fall and Winter. Kind of fifties theme, decent food, view of runway. Ocean right there.

West Port - Nice little pizza/pasta place right next door to the west. Also a pleasant walk into town offers shops, an assortment of restaurants or a walk on the beach.

Tacoma Narrows - As of end of October - restaurant is closed again.

Puyallup. Pierce County-Thun Field. Hangar Inn 253 848-8446. Reliable food, a lot like a good Denny's. A superior view of Mt Rainier while you eat, especially from the outdoor deck.

Woodland State - Oaktree Restaurant. 360 225-8446. This airport is short, narrow and provides an interesting approach if landing to the north or with a crosswind. So it's a good place to go when you're ready for a new challenge. The Oaktree is about 1/3 of a mile north of the field, offering good food, a Sunday brunch that will have you leaving over gross and a gift shop to delight lady passenger (or pilots). If you walk east at the main highway there are a number of other eateries to consider - Mexican and Thai are among the options.

Decision

My biggest problem with this Blog is deciding who my audience is. I want to share what I've learned about flying with other pilots. At the same time, I want to encourage non-pilots to learn about, appreciate and maybe try aviation.

So I'll include posts geared for both, relying on you, my readers, to decide which post subjects work best for you. Opinions, questions, and thoughts welcomed.

Becoming a Pilot

Decision made, determination solid, the path to becoming a pilot is before me. It's summer so one or two evenings a week and most Saturdays I head for the airport. The Cessna 150 is an ideal trainer. Easy to fly, forgiving, inexpensive to rent. His name is Hugo as he was flipped on his back during hurricane Hugo. No, he wasn't in the air at the time, he was on the ground. The hours went by as I learned through practice, and more practice all the controls and maneuvers required to fly the airplane. First landing came quicker than I expected and was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. As pilots are fond of saying "It was a good landing because we could walk away and a great landing because the plane could be reused" but beyond that I choose not to comment! Landings got much better, confidence and skills grew. I learned to use the radio which was quite difficult. It takes awhile to tune your ears to hear and understand transmissions and learn the specialized language. But at long last the day had arrived... I was ready to solo.
This is a major milestone. The day the instructor (I'll call him Bob) climbs out of the plane and says "Take it around the pattern for 3 landings."
Thoughts sped through my mind, Oh my god! What am I doing? I can do this thing, as I calmly taxied to the end of the runway, made radio announcements, and pushed the throttle forward. Hugo jumped into the air...whoa! I'd heard about this - a lighter plane with 200 pounds of Bob on the ground, but still a surprise. Around in the pattern, perfectly setup for first solo landing...it was nothing to be proud of. Second landing a bit worse. Third so bad Bob checked to see if the emergency ELT had been set off. What the hell! I had been making very good to near perfect landings, why now could I not seem to manage? My spirits were low as I slunk home questioning my goal of becoming pilot. I licked my wounds for several days, feeling terribly sorry for myself. Then one morning, just as I awakened, it came to me. When landing, there is a point when the plane should be flared, which means the nose lifted a bit so the plane settles smoothly on the two main wheels. This technique is complex to learn, and vital to consistenly good landings. In a Cessna 150 the cabin is so narrow that instructor and student are in contact from shoulder to hip. Bob was tensing his arm, just at the point I should flare. I'd learned to respond to that signal without even being aware of it! Problem solved! Remedial training commenced with Bob pulling his arm across his body so we would not touch. Landings quickly improved, I had my second solo, and was turned loose to fly on my own. Only in the pattern or to the practice area a few miles to the west of the home field. I had restricted wings!

It all began...

A long time ago when as I child I would lay on the summer grass looking up into a circle of blue sky defined by evergreen tree tops and see planes passing over. I would wonder if someday I would be in or even fly such a plane - like Penny on Sky King.
A lot of life and years went by. I worked, married, raised children. Then a chance meeting with a pilot followed by a conversation with my husband changed my world. "Hey, Mike", I said. "I met the Sheriff's pilot today. Wouldn't flying be a wonderful way to make a living? I'd love to fly someday."
"We could probably afford for you to take lessons, why don't you look into it?" He replied. Two weeks later, this 53 year-old grandmother lifted into the air in a Cessna 150, snugged into the cockpit with a CFI. (Certified Flight Instructor). It was an Introductory flight just to see if I would like it. Five minutes into the flight I knew, without any doubt whatsoever that I would become a pilot. No matter what it took. The joy and freedom and thrill of moving an aircraft around the sky with my own hands wasn't even diminished by the airsickness that arrived as my instructor took control and guided the plane back to the ground.