On Soloing

I had taken 7 hours of pilot training, not much by anyone's standards. I actually had a few light bouts of nausea during this time, and almost questioned my ability to become a pilot. I perservered as most people do for something that they want. Learning to takeoff was easy, flying enroute was pretty straightforward, although I remember that the plane seemed like a leaf in the wind at times. The sensation of turning the plane with gentle left airleron and left rudder, or vice versa, was beyond words. Pulling back on the yoke resulted in an increase in altitude and a decrease in airspeed. All of the sensations were phenomenal and at times overwhelming. When it came to landing, that took all of my hand/eye/brain coordination. Landing involves flying an airplane in relatively slow flight. All of the controls become mushy and the pilot must be alert not to stall (aerodynamically) the airplane. This is accomplished by increasing the angle of attack too much. Anyway, after 7 hours of instruction, I didn't think that I had actually landed the aircraft myself. I was so focused that I thought my instructor was assisting me during each landing. I remember getting my knuckles whacked by a clip board because I had a "death grip" on the yoke. My instructor kept telling me to have light fingertip control during landing which would result in nice light changes to the attitude of the plane during the final landing approach. This was easier said than done, to a new student pilot.

So on this sunny day in Fitchburg, Massachusetts, Perley Carmichael, my instructor indicated that I should taxi the airplane back to the terminal. We had only flown for about half the time of a typical lesson, so I was disappointed. I thought it was because I was flying poorly. As I shut the engine down and started to get out, Perley said, "Only one of us is leaving this airplane, and the other will make 3 takeoffs and landings and return here afterwards". Those were his exact words. I could not believe it.

I taxied out to the runway, not really sure I was fully prepared. At least one of us thought so. The airport was uncontrolled, so I made my radio call on Unicom and took off. Taking off is easy. Then I turned downwind and realized I didn't think that I had ever made a landing myself, without assistance. Oh my God!!! So I was about to get a baptism of fire, as another airplane went in front of me, and I had to extend my downwind for proper spacing. Which only gave me more time to be anxious about my landing. Then I lined up and realized I had a crosswind. Ouch, for my first solo landing. But that gave me more focus and I landed perfectly with a crab on short final, while in the flare, I kicked opposite rudder, while holding in the airleron and landing on the upwind wheel and then bringing down the other gear.

So I taxied to the other runway which had more favorable winds (ie, less crosswind) and did my second takeoff and landing. This runway, although certainly long enough, was shorter than my first runway. So, I tried to do a short field landing, which for the most part, means paying real close attention to airspeeds, and touching down right at the beginning of the runway. I did another good landing.

I was supposed to do 3, but was pretty proud of myself, and just called it a day, having batted 2 for 2. There is simply no better feeling than soloing an airplane for the first time. I think it was actually more exhilerating than actually getting my Pilot Certificate. I can still see the actual solo in my mind in great details, now almost 30 years later.

My Co-Pilot

Flying, in and of itself, is one of the most rewarding things a person can do. In the world, there are committees, task groups, group thinking, etc. But in an airplane, it is you, the airplane, and the forces of nature. When things go right, it is because of you. When things go wrong, only you can fix them. It's pilot and airplane, that simple! Only ATC (air traffic control) tells you what to do, and even then, it's usually instructions that keep you from hitting another airplane or terra firma.

But flying is also a social thing for me. I love to fly somewhere and meet with friends or at a fly-in with lots of other friends, or friends-to-be-made.

But this blog is about my co-pilot, my wife, best friend, and yes, copilot of N5722Q. Lots of spouses have issues with motorcycles and airplanes. They don't like them, and don't want their spouses to kill themselves. Well, my co-pilot, who is not a pilot is the best co-pilot a pilot could want. Linda plans flights and destinations, calls friends with Mooneys to join us at some beautiful airport for breakfast or lunch. Plans long trips and short trips. Simply put, she loves flying. During a pre-flight check of the airplane, she is as vigilant as I am to ensure that 22Q is safe and sound for the flight. She is always looking out for traffic and pointing it out to me. Her eyes are way too good and she sees planes miles away that are no factor. I have a tendency to only look for planes within a few mile radius, but not Linda. She sees planes miles away and thousands of feet different in altitude. She's better than a traffic collision avoidance system, and much prettier and pleasant. On landing, she always double checks that I have extended the landing gear, so as to avoid a gear-up landing. This is very useful. It is said there there are 2 types of pilots, those that have done a gear-up landing, and those that will. Linda is working to make us the exception. That is also very useful.

But the best part of her co-pilot-ness is that she is like a kid when we are flying. Her nose is glued to the window watching earthbound people and features and marveling at them all. We have seldom flown a straight line to our destination. She'll see something and ask me to turn and descend towards it for a better look. Often it is a mountain lake, or a wine vineyard, apple orchard, water treatment pool (yes, they look beautiful from the air with the fountains and patterns in the water), and too many others to mention. Everything is beautiful from the air.

And so is my beautiful co-pilot!

Father & Son

Well, my Dad could never fulfill his desire to pilot his own aircraft since he was unable to pass a medical. It was a major disappointment to him, in his life, although that generation never showed it. He had instilled the desire to fly in me, though, and I got my license when I was 26. We flew a lot together and as luck would have it, we bonded over flying. Nothing else brought us together like flying. You know how it can be with Fathers and Sons. Over a few years, I had taught him to fly and he was very good at it. So on most of our flights, I'd pretty much let him be sole manipulator of the controls (and Yes Virginia, we had a simple "I"ve got it" agreement and he would let go of everything and I would be sole manipulator of the controls). He was like a kid at Christmas time flying, a dream come true. I remember one day that I would like to share. We were flying from Manchester NH to Cape Cod. Over Cape Cod Bay, we saw what looked like a barge with holes in it. My Dad claimed it was target practice for the Air National Guard, which was stationed nearby. He got on the intercom and said to me "Boston Center, we have spotted an enemy aircraft carrier in Cape Cod Bay. We request permission to strafe the carrier." What my Dad didn't realize is that he accidently pushed the "transmit" button. Well, I thought air traffic control would take my license since we were on a frequency with all the airline traffic into Logan Airport. But he came back on the radio and said "Cessna, you are cleared to strafe the carrier, be careful and good luck. Report back on frequency". Well he dove the plane and we strafed that enemy carrier successfully, climbed back to altitude and started to head home. Well, my Dad was not through so he called back air traffic control, "Mission Accomplished, enemy carrier was sunk". And all we got back on the radio from air traffic control and a couple of airlines was "Bravo!".

So What is the Vintage Mooney Group

So I've already said that Flying all by itself is most rewarding. But when I sit down and count my blessings, the Vintage Mooney Group is definitely one of those blessings! If it's not great enough to be a pilot, to be able to fly, to own and fly a Mooney, well the top of that heap is to be a part of the Vintage Mooney Group. Some people say that he/she who dies with the most toys wins. Well, I will die with the most and best friends a person could ever dream of. There are wonderful people everywhere, but once a month, some of the finest fly to a common destination in their Vintage Mooneys and spend the day or the weekend together. You can see a summary of these fly-ins at http://www.vintagemooneygroup.com/. But you need to join a fly-in to see what I mean. It's one of those things in life where the journey and the ends. What could be better than to soar up into the sky, dodging clouds, over the Sierra Nevada Mountains, over the Mojave Desert, landing at a beautiful airport in the great southwestern USA, and then spending the day with some of the greatest vintage mooney pilots in the world. To be sure, people with common interests tend to get along. But the spirit in the Vintage Mooney Group transcends that. It starts with a critique of landings (rated 0-10). Somebody is always helping you to park. Then no handshakes will do, only a smile and hugs, followed by tall Mooney tales, lunch, hiking, eating, and more hangar stories. So when I die, let everyone know that I was a Vintage Mooney dude, and that will be enough.

Angel Flight

Flying is already one of the most wonderful and rewarding things I do in my life. There are few things in life that you rely on yourself so much. While flying, when things go right, it's you. When things don't go right, it's you. It's that simple. One of the things I've done recently is to fly Angel Flights. If you haven't heard about this, it's the greatest thing to do if you are a pilot. Essentially you volunteer to fly people with medical needs from Point A to Point B. On my first Angel Flight, I picked up my passenger at San Luis Obispo on the beautiful central coast of California and flew her to Oakland. Flying from the rural coast of California to the San Francisco Class B airspace (essentially designated an extremely busy airspace) into Oakland was quite a journey. My passenger was a wonderful passenger who enjoyed flying and we diverted left and right during the flight to get a better glimpse at something interesting on the ground. It was fun to call air traffic control and say, this is Angel Flight 22Q. Even air traffic control gets into Angel Flights. I did my best to help my passenger enjoy her flight and tried to make it a temporary escape from whatever medical issues are concerning her. I think it worked. In that short 1 hour flight, we literally became friends, and she also helped me to forget all the things on my mind for 1 brief shining hour. Flying is already a wonderful thing to do, but flying Angel Flights, well the reward is beyond words! Even the descent into Oakland was not stressful with all of the airline traffic from San Francisco, San Jose, and Oakland. Somehow I knew an "angel" was looking over us on this day, and I was right. The angel was my passenger.

Landing

Landing an airplane is one of my biggest thrills. Truthfully, almost anyone can takeoff, but landing requires skill and coordination. First of all, you are coming from the clear blue skies (hopefully) into an area where planes tend to congregate. Some pilots fly the pattern with good communication on the radio, and some airplanes have no operating radio and/or no operating pilot (ie, rules are for everyone else). Most often you have been descending into the airport traffic pattern (usually 1000 AGL, or Above Ground Level). The feel of the descent is akin to gliding a bicycle downhill when you were a kid. It feels wonderful. Everything on the ground gets bigger and bigger. On downwind (parallel to the runway at pattern altitude), I can easily check for planes departing, or others in the pattern to land. I slowly bring the power back further and then lower the gear. On our airplane, I lower the gear manually with a big lever called a Johnson Bar. I love this since it feels like real flying and the only way it'll fail is if I don't keep my right arm in shape. No electrical motors or fuses to fail. The plane slows down with the gear lowered which helps me to lose more altitude. As I continue to slow, I start to lose altitude and check my descent. I'm a little high today so I'll crank in a few pumps of flaps. My plane has a manual hydraulic lever to deploy the flaps. I love the feel it gives me. I feel even more one with the airplane. So I turn my base leg which is perpendicular to the runway and check for planes again. If I need more flaps, I'll add it now. The plane is trimmed, which I adjusted on downwind so that the plane will hold the airspeed that I chose to approach at. In my Mooney, that is usually 85mph. Now I'm about to turn Final and line up with the runway. One more check on my airspeed and altitude. And my wife calls out and confirms that the gear is down (that would ruin an otherwise wonderful flight). We're over the numbers now (pilot talk for over the beginning of the runway). As I continue to descend I start a rollout which reduces my descent rate. The Mooney does not want to land (it loves flying). If you are going even a few mph too fast, it will float down the runway and refuse to land. Mooneys will not land until they are ready to do so and also will not takeoff until they are ready to do so. Today I am right on the airspeed and she starts to settle gracefully to the runway. Unlike most other airplanes that need a fair amount of nose up to land on the main gear, the Mooney wants just a little nose up (almost a flat attitude), and settles to the runway. Today I did a greaser (which is a nice accomplishment since Mooneys have no give in their gear). We slow down and turn off at taxiway Charlie. Another beautiful flight.

Clouds

Clouds look beautiful from the ground, especially those big cumulus clouds that billow upward, sometimes seemingly forever, as they reach to the heavens. But clouds are even more majestic when flying above them, or through canyons of clouds. They seem alive as they get blown by the wind, and raised by the warm air beneath them. Constantly changing shapes but remaining bright white. I see a canyon of clouds and aim for it. But this is not ordinary canyon. It is constantly changing and could close on me with little notice, but today it does not. In fact, it seems to twist and turn but always provide me with a path through it, kind of saying to me, "I can envelop you when I please young grasshopper, but today I provide passage for you". We fly through the canyon with beautiful formations at each gentle turn. I talk to Oakland Center to make sure that nobody is near me since my visibility is limited here in the clouds. On the flight out beneath the clouds, it was choppy and sometimes turbulent (pilots call it continuous Light Chop with occasional moderate turbulence, but my wife calls it uncomfortable). Above the clouds on the return flight, it was smooth as silk. Because we could not see the ground beneath us, the return flight was unearthly. The ride was smooth and even our Mooney airplane seemed to be enjoying it. At times like this, I think our airplane is a woman, enjoying the finer things in life and letting everyone know when she's happy. N5722Q was happy this sunny cloudy afternoon. As we approached Paso Robles we had climbed to more than 10,000 feet and only had 20 miles before landing. Oakland Center called to ensure that we intended to land at Paso Robles, since we were so high. I told her that we were staying above the cloud layer, enjoying our flight, and would begin our descent shortly. She knew our situation, and simply said, "22Q, Enjoy, and maintain VFR". VFR is Visual Flight Rules and that means stay out of the clouds. We did, of course, mostly because clouds are much more beautiful when seen from above, and less beautiful once you enter them. After we landed, we looked up to see the cloud layer getting blown over the airport. We had not heard or seen any other small planes flying that afternoon over the mountains over the clouds. We were lucky to have this journey all to ourselves this day.

Flying is Life

My friend doesn't like golf because he says it's too much like life with its ups-and-downs, good days and bad, but you keep coming back. Well flying is even more like life. No matter how much you plan (and you need to do so when flying), things just always tend to work out differently than when you planned it. The weather may change your plans, or your plane may change your plans (something that's just not right, or just doesn't feel right). But whenever I finish a flight, my heart leaps. I am sure that it is partly due to "cheating death once more", and it is always nice to have the the number of landings match the number of takeoffs, but it is much much more than that. Lifting off from a runway and leaving the surly bonds of earth sets your soul into high gear. There's really nothing that feels better than making a climbing turn to head on course. Retracting the flaps and then retracting the gear, and feeling that slight extra boost of climbing power. The earth seems to become even more beautiful as you climb. Have you ever noticed how beautiful a freshly plowed field looks from the sky? Or vineyard in bloom? Or an apple orchard in winter with those shadows? Even ugly things on the ground are magnificent from the air. We flew over aeration ponds from a local town water treatment plant, and my gosh, it was beautiful with the pattern of fountains and ripples on the water. I don't know why everything looks beautiful from the air, but it does. At lower altitudes, nothing is boring. Even a desert casts colorful shadows, and dry riverbeds create mosaics in the desert sand. Occasionally we glimpse a fault link in the earth's crust. Most recently we flew over the Carrizo Plain about 50 miles southeast of Paso Robles, and we could see the San Andreas fault. There were mountains to the east with the ridgeline parallel to the fault line. We could clearly see the fault. But the amazing site was that of creek beds running down from the mountains, and when they reached the fault line, they were shifted 90-degrees north, and then 90-degrees back on course as the earth had moved in a line and taken the creeks with it. We hit a bump in the air and it reminded us that we are flying and not simply enjoying the view. Flying is life. Life is what happens while you are making other plans. Flying is the same. It is demanding and rewarding, and unforgiving at times.