The title says it all. A LOT more coming, when I have a moment to post an update. Amen.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Sunday, April 6, 2008
0.6 To Go And Counting
I actually was able to get up in the Gobosh late Saturday morning, skirting under a low, but constant, 2,000' cloud ceiling to perform some of the required maneuvers ahead of my checkride. After landing at Palatka for fuel, I headed back north to practice steep turns, "S" turns and turns about a point -- all maneuvers I've had some difficulty with performing.
Adding further challenges was the wind, which was blowing up to 20 knots on the ground and was equally turbulent between 1,000' and 1,500 above ground level. This was actually a plus, though, as it gave me yet another challenge to work against... and with some practice, I was able to hold the required steep angles and altitude during each maneuver, fighting with the wind at every step.
That took about a half-hour or so... leaving me with a decision to make. To qualify for my checkride, I needed to rack up 2.3 hours more solo time in the Gobosh -- and so far, I'd only done .7 of that. Part of me wanted to land back at Haller right then, as it was rather bumpy at altitude (winds again) and the low cloud deck made me a little nervous (one of my biggest in-flight fears is losing visibility, or reference to the ground)... but given the task at hand, I turned and headed southeast across the St. Johns River, to eat up some more flight time.
That turned out to be a good decision... as the air smoothed out considerably across the river, allowing me to relax a bit, not having to fight the flight controls. I lazed across the sky for another .6 hours, occasionally practicing more steep turns, but generally flying level and snapping more pictures.
By 12:15 pm, the Hobbs meter showed I'd been flying for 1.3 hours... and, truth be known, I was now kind of bored, as I'd accomplished everything I set out to do on my checklist (except for stalls, due to the low clouds that kept me from climbing to the required 3,000 feet AGL.) I was also a little thirsty, so I decided to head back towards Palatka, land, and grab a bottled water.
I was glad I did... as it provided me with two more good lessons. The first one came to be as I was over the treeline, on short final to land on runway 17. I was fighting a stiff headwind, but it was more-or-less straight down the runway so I didn't need much of a crab angle to stay on track. Though my airspeed was pegged at 60 kts, as required, my ground speed was a lot slower. It felt like I was crawling along the ground, fighting my way to the runway.
And then, suddenly, I wasn't. I looked down, and my airspeed had dropped to under 50. Wind shear! I jabbed in the throttle slightly, and recovered the needed knots before the plane began to drop further. I think I caught it about as quick as I could have, but it still didn't seem fast enough; had I not been paying attention, the plane would have possibly come close to stalling, a scenario that has downed a number of aircraft at the absolute worse time -- within about 150 feet of the ground.
Things smoothed out after that. The 20-knot headwind helped me make a fine short-field landing, and I taxied over to the small terminal/FBO on the field. I'd already gassed up once, so I didn't need fuel. After tying a wing down, I walked in, greeted the counterperson on duty, and made a beeline for the Coke machine for a Dasani.
"In from Haller?" the staffer, Dave, asked me. Over the past two weeks, Jim and I have been regular customers, after all.
"Yep, burning off solo time," I replied. "I passed my oral exam Thursday."
We chatted a little more, then Dave asked "have you seen the latest weather?"
I replied in the negative; I hadn't been near a computer or a phone in nearly two hours. I had been keeping an eye on the clouds, of course, and nothing too threatening had popped up.
Dave's eyebrows perked up, and he motioned over to the weather terminal. "Check it out. There's a major cell over Gainesville right now."
I looked. Sure enough, a line of green -- with some ominous fingers of orange -- was forming directly over Gainesville, about 30 miles west of Palatka. It seemed to be moving relatively slowly towards the east; the last echo was recorded 10 minutes before, according to the time stamp on the image.
Decision time. I'd planned to burn off at least another 45 minutes in the air before I returned to base... but the weather forecast altered that plan. Conversely, the weather was still far enough away that I didn't need to wait it out at Palatka; if I took off in the next 10 minutes or so, the 20-minute flight would put me on the ground in plenty of time before the clouds moved in.
Not to mention the winds, already strong, would only get worse throughout the rest of the day.
"I'd better head out," I told Dave. "Better safe than sorry."
He nodded. "Good luck on your checkride!"
Though there wasn't a real reason for me to rush things -- the skies to the west were still clear -- I still worked through the checklist in record time, not missing a single item. There was only one other plane in the pattern at Palatka, practicing crosswind landings; the Gobosh's wheels were off the runway within seven minutes after I started the engine.
It was a bumpy ride back to Haller, from the moment I turned downwind to exit the pattern to the north. And sure enough, the clouds appeared darker to the west once I climbed up to 1,500 feet... but they were well off in the distance, and I was moving at least three times faster than they were. I would have much preferred clear, calm skies... but everything was well within limits, the clouds over my head were at least 1,500 feet above me, and I still had easily 12 miles visibility in the haze.
Still, the winds were on my mind as I entered the pattern at Haller. From downwind, I could see the windsock sticking straight out, favoring landing to the south, as expected. In fact, the wind seemed to be blowing straight down the runway. Poy-fect.
For as much bumping around that was going on as I descended -- wind currents blowing off the trees were causing updrafts -- the approach was very calm, and routine. I'd planned for some burbles over the trees at the end of the runway, and I figured things would calm down after I was below the treeline. Which is exactly how it played out; in fact, it was one of my best landings to date.
The showers started 45 minutes after I landed, about the time I'd expected them to. They haven't let up since; no matter, since the plane is now down south in Punta Gorda, anyway -- Jim flew it home for the weekend -- and I won't see it again until Sun 'N Fun starts Tuesday.
Due to cutting things short for weather, I'm still .6 hours short of the five-hours solo requirement. I'll have to go up and burn off that time at South Lakeland, where the plane will be stationed throughout the show. And then comes the checkride.
If all goes to plan -- and I don't screw up royally, and bust the checkride -- by this time next week, I should be a licensed sport pilot.
Stay tuned.
Adding further challenges was the wind, which was blowing up to 20 knots on the ground and was equally turbulent between 1,000' and 1,500 above ground level. This was actually a plus, though, as it gave me yet another challenge to work against... and with some practice, I was able to hold the required steep angles and altitude during each maneuver, fighting with the wind at every step.
That took about a half-hour or so... leaving me with a decision to make. To qualify for my checkride, I needed to rack up 2.3 hours more solo time in the Gobosh -- and so far, I'd only done .7 of that. Part of me wanted to land back at Haller right then, as it was rather bumpy at altitude (winds again) and the low cloud deck made me a little nervous (one of my biggest in-flight fears is losing visibility, or reference to the ground)... but given the task at hand, I turned and headed southeast across the St. Johns River, to eat up some more flight time.
That turned out to be a good decision... as the air smoothed out considerably across the river, allowing me to relax a bit, not having to fight the flight controls. I lazed across the sky for another .6 hours, occasionally practicing more steep turns, but generally flying level and snapping more pictures.
By 12:15 pm, the Hobbs meter showed I'd been flying for 1.3 hours... and, truth be known, I was now kind of bored, as I'd accomplished everything I set out to do on my checklist (except for stalls, due to the low clouds that kept me from climbing to the required 3,000 feet AGL.) I was also a little thirsty, so I decided to head back towards Palatka, land, and grab a bottled water.
I was glad I did... as it provided me with two more good lessons. The first one came to be as I was over the treeline, on short final to land on runway 17. I was fighting a stiff headwind, but it was more-or-less straight down the runway so I didn't need much of a crab angle to stay on track. Though my airspeed was pegged at 60 kts, as required, my ground speed was a lot slower. It felt like I was crawling along the ground, fighting my way to the runway.
And then, suddenly, I wasn't. I looked down, and my airspeed had dropped to under 50. Wind shear! I jabbed in the throttle slightly, and recovered the needed knots before the plane began to drop further. I think I caught it about as quick as I could have, but it still didn't seem fast enough; had I not been paying attention, the plane would have possibly come close to stalling, a scenario that has downed a number of aircraft at the absolute worse time -- within about 150 feet of the ground.
Things smoothed out after that. The 20-knot headwind helped me make a fine short-field landing, and I taxied over to the small terminal/FBO on the field. I'd already gassed up once, so I didn't need fuel. After tying a wing down, I walked in, greeted the counterperson on duty, and made a beeline for the Coke machine for a Dasani.
"In from Haller?" the staffer, Dave, asked me. Over the past two weeks, Jim and I have been regular customers, after all.
"Yep, burning off solo time," I replied. "I passed my oral exam Thursday."
We chatted a little more, then Dave asked "have you seen the latest weather?"
I replied in the negative; I hadn't been near a computer or a phone in nearly two hours. I had been keeping an eye on the clouds, of course, and nothing too threatening had popped up.
Dave's eyebrows perked up, and he motioned over to the weather terminal. "Check it out. There's a major cell over Gainesville right now."
I looked. Sure enough, a line of green -- with some ominous fingers of orange -- was forming directly over Gainesville, about 30 miles west of Palatka. It seemed to be moving relatively slowly towards the east; the last echo was recorded 10 minutes before, according to the time stamp on the image.
Decision time. I'd planned to burn off at least another 45 minutes in the air before I returned to base... but the weather forecast altered that plan. Conversely, the weather was still far enough away that I didn't need to wait it out at Palatka; if I took off in the next 10 minutes or so, the 20-minute flight would put me on the ground in plenty of time before the clouds moved in.
Not to mention the winds, already strong, would only get worse throughout the rest of the day.
"I'd better head out," I told Dave. "Better safe than sorry."
He nodded. "Good luck on your checkride!"
Though there wasn't a real reason for me to rush things -- the skies to the west were still clear -- I still worked through the checklist in record time, not missing a single item. There was only one other plane in the pattern at Palatka, practicing crosswind landings; the Gobosh's wheels were off the runway within seven minutes after I started the engine.
It was a bumpy ride back to Haller, from the moment I turned downwind to exit the pattern to the north. And sure enough, the clouds appeared darker to the west once I climbed up to 1,500 feet... but they were well off in the distance, and I was moving at least three times faster than they were. I would have much preferred clear, calm skies... but everything was well within limits, the clouds over my head were at least 1,500 feet above me, and I still had easily 12 miles visibility in the haze.
Still, the winds were on my mind as I entered the pattern at Haller. From downwind, I could see the windsock sticking straight out, favoring landing to the south, as expected. In fact, the wind seemed to be blowing straight down the runway. Poy-fect.
For as much bumping around that was going on as I descended -- wind currents blowing off the trees were causing updrafts -- the approach was very calm, and routine. I'd planned for some burbles over the trees at the end of the runway, and I figured things would calm down after I was below the treeline. Which is exactly how it played out; in fact, it was one of my best landings to date.
The showers started 45 minutes after I landed, about the time I'd expected them to. They haven't let up since; no matter, since the plane is now down south in Punta Gorda, anyway -- Jim flew it home for the weekend -- and I won't see it again until Sun 'N Fun starts Tuesday.
Due to cutting things short for weather, I'm still .6 hours short of the five-hours solo requirement. I'll have to go up and burn off that time at South Lakeland, where the plane will be stationed throughout the show. And then comes the checkride.
If all goes to plan -- and I don't screw up royally, and bust the checkride -- by this time next week, I should be a licensed sport pilot.
Stay tuned.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Another Quick Update
One more hurdle cleared -- today I passed the oral exam, arguably the hardest part towards receiving my sport pilot ticket. Weather precluded me from wrapping up my 2.3 hours remaining required solo work today, so hopefully the weather will clear for Saturday.
It's close. I can feel it.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Quick Update
1) Training is going VERY well... as you may be able to tell below:
2) I scored a 90 percent on the FAA written last Friday (passing is 70.) I'm ticked I didn't do better, but know which questions I missed and they were ones I had questions about on the test.
3) I flew with Jim to Punta Gorda last weekend to rack up dual cross-country time. All flight planning and navigating by pilotage went to plan. Hard to believe I had only a basic grasp of these concepts two weeks ago.
5) Flying back Sunday, low cloud cover forced us to land in Ocala (OCF,) stay the night, and continue on Monday. My laptop computer also chose to die a whirring death Sunday night.
6) I soloed from Palatka Tuesday, no fooling. 0.6 hours in the practice area and three touch-and-goes. I accumulated another 0.5 hours later that evening, flying out of Haller. The Gobosh and I have reached a happy truce regarding its touchy throttle, and its STRONG left-turning tendencies on takeoff. I even felt emboldened to perform my first-ever solo stall.
7) The next day, Wednesday, I completed my cross-country solo. Haller (7FL4) to Palatka (28J) to Flagler County (XFL) and back to Haller. Time en route: 2.2 hours, of which 1.6 was inflight. I have the signatures from each airport and photos to prove it. I had a blast, the plane performed wonderfully and the weather was perfect... as it had been for most of my time in Florida, Sunday excepted.
9) So, here's where we stand: I need to complete another 2.3 hours solo time in N702GB, to fulfill the five-hours-solo requirement ahead of the checkride. Jim and I also have to fly another .7 hours dual in preparation for the checkride, which we'll accomplish handily flying down to where the examiner is based, Zephyrhills (ZPH.)
10) I'm ready, I think. I plan to spend the solo time practicing maneuvers I feel I'm weaker on, including steep turns. Whenever I fly them with Jim I perform them to checkride standards, but I still feel shaky. That may take half an hour or so, all-told, so I plan to fly back out to the coast to grab the pictures I didn't take during my cross-country flight, in order to eat up more time on the Hobbs. I'm really looking forward to it, just waiting for the weather to cooperate... which it might not until the weekend.
As I often end articles I write on ANN, stay tuned. Things get REALLY interesting now.
(Thanks to Hernan Enriquez, for use of his photo of me taxiing into Palatka on Wednesday.)
Monday, March 31, 2008
Lessons Learned... And More Coming!
Wow... a lot of time has passed since I last updated the site with the status of my flight training. As you might imagine, this is due largely to the fact that, well, I've been busy flying!
The past few days have yielded a number of lessons for me... many of which I hadn't anticipated, but they were good to learn.
Let's pick up with Wednesday evening's lesson. My instructor, Jim, and I returned to Palatka, where we shot touch-and-goes to work on my takeoff and landing techniques. Like I said in my last post, I had a tendency to veer left on both... something Jim was able to cure me of.
"It sounds hooky, but you really do have to develop a feel for the plane," Jim told me after Wednesday morning's frustrating lesson. "You have to visualize how it reacts to your inputs. You have to help it maneuver in the way you want it to. It wants to help you."
Actually, that didn't sound hooky at all; if anything, I appreciate the zen approach to flying. So Wednesday afternoon, before we took off again... I sat in the Gobosh's cockpit for about 20 minutes, visualizing the proper nose attitude on takeoff and landing... and generally commiserating with the plane, asking for its help as much as possible.
And it worked. How? I'm not sure I can explain it, but I'll try. Let's start with the Gobosh's requiring judicious amounts of right rudder on takeoff, more so than I can recall needing on most any other plane I've flown, in order to counteract the left-turning tendency generated by the rotation of the propeller and "adverse yaw."
That's the veering... and there really isn't a science in figuring out how to counteract it, other than learning to balance the application of throttle with the proper amount of rudder. Which I did Wednesday night, thanks to Jim.
"Bring the plane around just a bit right of centerline, and keep the plane lined up on the right during takeoff," he told me. "Don't let the plane cross the line... don't let it veer right, either, but you get the idea."
All my takeoffs since have been rod-straight down the centerline, regardless of crosswind.
As for landings, they're coming along nicely, too... finally. And what was the silver bullet solution? Again, developing a feel for the plane. In fact, once I finally stopped trying to land the Gobosh like a different aircraft, it all came together... and the plane actually handles quite sweetly and gently in ground effect.
Jim showed me a couple techniques to help with my landings, that I've since practiced. One is to alight the plane's maingear gently on the runway, then add just enough power to take off again... then throttle back, and set down. Repeat the process as runway distance allows, which on Palatka's 9/27 is about five "bounce-and-goes." I was put off initially when Jim demonstrated the technique... but it's actually a lot of fun, and it teaches precise control inputs.
The second was even more fun: holding the plane in ground effect, keeping the mains about a foot or so off the runway, using throttle inputs to hold the plane off. Essentially, you balance the plane between ground effect, and hanging on the prop. It's great fun, and a great learning technique; most of my landings since have been greasers, again in varying crosswind situations.
One final note -- I think I've finally come to terms with the Gobosh's throttle. I'm still not a fan of the particular arrangement, but I've learned to accept it for what it is.
As is the case on numerous single-engine piston aircraft, including most Cessnas, the G700S throttle is a push-pull lever jutting out from the lower center of the instrument panel. Push it in to increase revs, pull out to slow the engine down, and there's a ring around the base to adjust the friction placed on the lever. If there's too much friction, the lever becomes dangerously difficult to move quickly; too loose, and the engine merrily speeds up the moment you take your hand off the lever. It's the same in a lot of planes.
With Jim's help, we finally found a "sweet spot" for the throttle lever friction, and it's worked wonders. Tuning the proper engine RPM is no longer a big problem, and we've done several full-throttle applications (simulated go-arounds) with no problems.
Like I said, this exact same throttle arrangement works well enough on Cessnas and a variety of other GA planes; I flew it on Skyhawks long before I knew what a Gobosh was. But those planes are equipped with relatively slow-turning Lycoming and Continental engines, that only have a usable rev range of less than 2,000 revs. Those engines are also slower to respond to throttle commands -- if only barely -- than the Rotax engine in the Gobosh and most LSAs, and in my opinion is better suited to the friction-lock throttle lever because of that.
All things being equal, Evektor has a better idea, I think... especially for the peaky Rotax. The SportStar also uses a push-pull lever, but it incorporates a vernier-style "twist" action too, that allows the operator to fine-tune the precise rev setting. If you need immediate throttle power or idle, a thumb-lever at the tip releases the lever to allow broad inputs; otherwise, you twist the throttle to tweak the right setting.
Given that the Rotax operates from around 1,950 rpm at idle, to over 5,000 at takeoff settings, I think the vernier-type throttle control is better, just because it allows more precise inputs. (This same arrangement is also found in single-engine piston Beechcrafts.) But the throttle in the Gobosh is perfectly workable, too... I just had to learn how to work it!
Still To Come: Steep Turns, I Take The FAA Written And Pass, A Long Cross-Country Flight, And Dealing With Clouds En Route
Let's pick up with Wednesday evening's lesson. My instructor, Jim, and I returned to Palatka, where we shot touch-and-goes to work on my takeoff and landing techniques. Like I said in my last post, I had a tendency to veer left on both... something Jim was able to cure me of.
"It sounds hooky, but you really do have to develop a feel for the plane," Jim told me after Wednesday morning's frustrating lesson. "You have to visualize how it reacts to your inputs. You have to help it maneuver in the way you want it to. It wants to help you."
Actually, that didn't sound hooky at all; if anything, I appreciate the zen approach to flying. So Wednesday afternoon, before we took off again... I sat in the Gobosh's cockpit for about 20 minutes, visualizing the proper nose attitude on takeoff and landing... and generally commiserating with the plane, asking for its help as much as possible.
And it worked. How? I'm not sure I can explain it, but I'll try. Let's start with the Gobosh's requiring judicious amounts of right rudder on takeoff, more so than I can recall needing on most any other plane I've flown, in order to counteract the left-turning tendency generated by the rotation of the propeller and "adverse yaw."
That's the veering... and there really isn't a science in figuring out how to counteract it, other than learning to balance the application of throttle with the proper amount of rudder. Which I did Wednesday night, thanks to Jim.
"Bring the plane around just a bit right of centerline, and keep the plane lined up on the right during takeoff," he told me. "Don't let the plane cross the line... don't let it veer right, either, but you get the idea."
All my takeoffs since have been rod-straight down the centerline, regardless of crosswind.
As for landings, they're coming along nicely, too... finally. And what was the silver bullet solution? Again, developing a feel for the plane. In fact, once I finally stopped trying to land the Gobosh like a different aircraft, it all came together... and the plane actually handles quite sweetly and gently in ground effect.
Jim showed me a couple techniques to help with my landings, that I've since practiced. One is to alight the plane's maingear gently on the runway, then add just enough power to take off again... then throttle back, and set down. Repeat the process as runway distance allows, which on Palatka's 9/27 is about five "bounce-and-goes." I was put off initially when Jim demonstrated the technique... but it's actually a lot of fun, and it teaches precise control inputs.
The second was even more fun: holding the plane in ground effect, keeping the mains about a foot or so off the runway, using throttle inputs to hold the plane off. Essentially, you balance the plane between ground effect, and hanging on the prop. It's great fun, and a great learning technique; most of my landings since have been greasers, again in varying crosswind situations.
One final note -- I think I've finally come to terms with the Gobosh's throttle. I'm still not a fan of the particular arrangement, but I've learned to accept it for what it is.
As is the case on numerous single-engine piston aircraft, including most Cessnas, the G700S throttle is a push-pull lever jutting out from the lower center of the instrument panel. Push it in to increase revs, pull out to slow the engine down, and there's a ring around the base to adjust the friction placed on the lever. If there's too much friction, the lever becomes dangerously difficult to move quickly; too loose, and the engine merrily speeds up the moment you take your hand off the lever. It's the same in a lot of planes.
With Jim's help, we finally found a "sweet spot" for the throttle lever friction, and it's worked wonders. Tuning the proper engine RPM is no longer a big problem, and we've done several full-throttle applications (simulated go-arounds) with no problems.
Like I said, this exact same throttle arrangement works well enough on Cessnas and a variety of other GA planes; I flew it on Skyhawks long before I knew what a Gobosh was. But those planes are equipped with relatively slow-turning Lycoming and Continental engines, that only have a usable rev range of less than 2,000 revs. Those engines are also slower to respond to throttle commands -- if only barely -- than the Rotax engine in the Gobosh and most LSAs, and in my opinion is better suited to the friction-lock throttle lever because of that.
All things being equal, Evektor has a better idea, I think... especially for the peaky Rotax. The SportStar also uses a push-pull lever, but it incorporates a vernier-style "twist" action too, that allows the operator to fine-tune the precise rev setting. If you need immediate throttle power or idle, a thumb-lever at the tip releases the lever to allow broad inputs; otherwise, you twist the throttle to tweak the right setting.
Given that the Rotax operates from around 1,950 rpm at idle, to over 5,000 at takeoff settings, I think the vernier-type throttle control is better, just because it allows more precise inputs. (This same arrangement is also found in single-engine piston Beechcrafts.) But the throttle in the Gobosh is perfectly workable, too... I just had to learn how to work it!
Still To Come: Steep Turns, I Take The FAA Written And Pass, A Long Cross-Country Flight, And Dealing With Clouds En Route
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Day One
(This update isn't very detailed, since it's 12:10 am EDT as I'm writing this after a VERY long day... but I wanted to get at least the first day's activity up. And no pics from the cockpit yet, since all my time in the air is about TRAINING so far.)
Due to strong, gusting winds in northern Florida Monday, I wasn't able to get started on my sport pilot training until Tuesday.
My instructor, Jim, and I took off from Haller (7FL4) at 10:15 am, first heading 15 miles south to Palatka (28J) for fuel. After topping off N702GB, we took off once again, and flew east of the field, on the other side of the St. John's River, for airwork.
Jim led me through a basic refresher course of maneuvering flight: turns-around-a-point, forward-and-side-slips, descending and climbing turns, and pilotage. Like I suspected during my earlier "sim" training, it's tough to miss Palatka -- since two large smokestacks rise over the flat terrain, visible for miles around, and the airport lies southwest of those stacks (the smoke also gives a handy reference for which way the winds are blowing... and for my readers at AG, Lafarge's drywall plant is right next door to the power station.)
After 1.3 hours of pretty intense airwork -- not helped at all by turbulence brought on by the warming of the ground, and residual breezes -- we returned to Palatka, and borrowed the FBO courtesy car to grab lunch.
Since I still had to post afternoon stories on ANN, we decided to return to Haller afterwards. This would be my first-ever soft-field landing, on a grass landing strip... and I was nervous of that, even going so far as to tell Jim I was willing to sit back and watch him do it. My confidence was shaken further the more we were bounced around by the increasingly strong winds, which a few times sent both of us out of our seats a bit, heads hitting the canopy.
Surprisingly, however -- well, to me anyway, if not Jim -- I made an unassisted, spot-on landing at Haller.
After working for four hours, it was time to head back into the air. As we once again headed down to Palatka, Jim showed me how easy it is to trim the airplane to fly at 60 knots -- on the edge of "slow flight," flaps up. This helped in the landing pattern at Palatka... where traffic had cleared out appreciably from the rather crowded state it was in earlier. 28J is VERY popular with student pilots, flying from Embry-Riddle in Daytona Beach, or the CAPT program.
However, at this hour -- 6 pm -- we were the only plane in the pattern for a significant part of the time.
Here's the short version of what followed: I still need work on my landing technique. It's where I show the most "rust." While I did make some passable landings, and two rather decent ones, other times I was skidding across the runway.
Part of that is still learning the particular quirks of the Gobosh (for one, its nose sits higher off the ground than the SportStar did, so the sightlines for flaring are different; for another, the darn thing has a free-castering nosewheel, no direct steering) part of that was the crosswind, and part of that was rust.
Jim showed me a technique that helped a little -- "fast-taxiing," in which you push enough power in to raise the nosewheel off the ground, but not the mains, then bring it back and hold the nose off the ground as long as possible. The goal is to give you an idea of the ideal sightlines for when you flare on landing.
By the end of the lesson at 7:15, I WAS making progress... and I capped it off with another nice landing back at Haller.
Total time in the air today: 3.9 hours. And there's more in store for tomorrow: steep turns, stalls, more landing work, and a trip over to the Class D (towered) airspace at St. Augustine (SGJ.)
I'm loving every minute of it.
My instructor, Jim, and I took off from Haller (7FL4) at 10:15 am, first heading 15 miles south to Palatka (28J) for fuel. After topping off N702GB, we took off once again, and flew east of the field, on the other side of the St. John's River, for airwork.
Jim led me through a basic refresher course of maneuvering flight: turns-around-a-point, forward-and-side-slips, descending and climbing turns, and pilotage. Like I suspected during my earlier "sim" training, it's tough to miss Palatka -- since two large smokestacks rise over the flat terrain, visible for miles around, and the airport lies southwest of those stacks (the smoke also gives a handy reference for which way the winds are blowing... and for my readers at AG, Lafarge's drywall plant is right next door to the power station.)
After 1.3 hours of pretty intense airwork -- not helped at all by turbulence brought on by the warming of the ground, and residual breezes -- we returned to Palatka, and borrowed the FBO courtesy car to grab lunch.
Since I still had to post afternoon stories on ANN, we decided to return to Haller afterwards. This would be my first-ever soft-field landing, on a grass landing strip... and I was nervous of that, even going so far as to tell Jim I was willing to sit back and watch him do it. My confidence was shaken further the more we were bounced around by the increasingly strong winds, which a few times sent both of us out of our seats a bit, heads hitting the canopy.
Surprisingly, however -- well, to me anyway, if not Jim -- I made an unassisted, spot-on landing at Haller.
After working for four hours, it was time to head back into the air. As we once again headed down to Palatka, Jim showed me how easy it is to trim the airplane to fly at 60 knots -- on the edge of "slow flight," flaps up. This helped in the landing pattern at Palatka... where traffic had cleared out appreciably from the rather crowded state it was in earlier. 28J is VERY popular with student pilots, flying from Embry-Riddle in Daytona Beach, or the CAPT program.
However, at this hour -- 6 pm -- we were the only plane in the pattern for a significant part of the time.
Here's the short version of what followed: I still need work on my landing technique. It's where I show the most "rust." While I did make some passable landings, and two rather decent ones, other times I was skidding across the runway.
Part of that is still learning the particular quirks of the Gobosh (for one, its nose sits higher off the ground than the SportStar did, so the sightlines for flaring are different; for another, the darn thing has a free-castering nosewheel, no direct steering) part of that was the crosswind, and part of that was rust.
Jim showed me a technique that helped a little -- "fast-taxiing," in which you push enough power in to raise the nosewheel off the ground, but not the mains, then bring it back and hold the nose off the ground as long as possible. The goal is to give you an idea of the ideal sightlines for when you flare on landing.
By the end of the lesson at 7:15, I WAS making progress... and I capped it off with another nice landing back at Haller.
Total time in the air today: 3.9 hours. And there's more in store for tomorrow: steep turns, stalls, more landing work, and a trip over to the Class D (towered) airspace at St. Augustine (SGJ.)
I'm loving every minute of it.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Let The Games Begin!
I spoke Friday with the man who will be my instructor -- I spent an hour on the phone with him, discussing topics ranging from where to take my FAA written exam (there's a place in St. Aug that's open six days a week) to what he thinks about the Gobosh ("it flies really nicely, and I love that it has a six-pack [of gauges]") to how long he's been instructing ("let me think... I think I'm coming up on my 35th year.")
As I type this while slamming the rest of my Java Chip frap (BIG mistake) my instructor, Jim, is flying the Gobosh to the airpark where my boss, also-Jim, resides, and where I'll be staying. Which leads to what I expect will be my first adventure: learning to depart and land on a 2,600-foot grass airstrip, my first introduction to non-paved runways, shorter than the 4,000' runway at Grand Prairie Muni (and I thought 4,000 ft was short!)
I can't wait.
As I type this while slamming the rest of my Java Chip frap (BIG mistake) my instructor, Jim, is flying the Gobosh to the airpark where my boss, also-Jim, resides, and where I'll be staying. Which leads to what I expect will be my first adventure: learning to depart and land on a 2,600-foot grass airstrip, my first introduction to non-paved runways, shorter than the 4,000' runway at Grand Prairie Muni (and I thought 4,000 ft was short!)
I can't wait.
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