Michael’s Flight Training Diary

Hours this session: 24 minutes

Hours so far: 17 hours 49 minutes

So after four circuits today, we rolled back up to PFT, and Louise briefed me. She’d jump out, I’d call for taxy as if starting afresh, head to the hold, power checks, then 1 (one) circuit. If it was going wrong, go around, but land further down the runway if possible: one circuit, not two.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes.” Not happy as in sunshine in my heart, or some other twee sentiment of ecstasy. But satisfied that I’m in as good a position to do what comes next as I’ll ever be. My flying was “textbook”, the landings had finally clicked, so with good mental focus and an absence of dire misfortune, the solo looked like a thoroughly doable psychological challenge.

“Promise me one thing, then.”

“Sure, what?”

“You remember the bloody carb heat!”

“Yes”

She hopped out, closed the door, and that was it.

No big nerves. Just a bit, just the right amount. No rush, time to think, check things over, and think again. Time to write on my kneepad in big bold letters: CARB HEAT. Time think about the call.

“Oxford Tower, Golf Bravo Charlie Golf Juliet radio check and request taxi with one zero one eight.” Just gave the previously-used QNH, since I hadn’t listened to the ATIS for a while.

“Golf Golf Juliet, taxy to holding point Charlie for runway one nine, entering two nine, QNH 1018″.

“Taxy to holding point Charlie for one nine, entering two nine, Golf Golf Juliet.” I think I probably forgot to repeat back the QNH, but since I’d already stated it correctly, the guy in the Tower didn’t ask for confirmation.

Time to think. Throttle to idle, foot brakes on hill-start style to prevent the aeroplane from rolling backwards down the slight tarmac slope into the PFT building… advance the throttle, and I’m moving. Up to 29, pull over to the side for power checks. I could feel Paul and Louise’ eyes on me from the other side of the airfield. I’m the only plane on the airfield on this beautiful summer’s evening, and I have all the time in the world. But the pressure’s there alright. Taxying along 29 towards Charlie, the sun was shining through the propeller into my eyes, causing my world to flicker in a very uncomfortable way. I briefly considered that a panic attack would be most unfortunate - then forgot all about it as I pulled into the side for power checks. Pull out the check list, and slowly work my way through. I remembered to turn the fuel pump on. Have I really done everything on the check list? I take a few seconds to contemplate this point. Yup, it really seems complete. Everything is ready. Brakes off… oops, must remember to reduce throttle to idle first, as the plane prematurely crawled away.

Stopped at holding point Charlie. “Golf Golf Juliet ready for departure”.

“Golf Golf Juliet clear take-off runway one nine, surface winds light and variable”. The controller was speaking particularly clearly and precisely.

“Clear take-off Golf Golf Juliet.”

Line up onto the runway, and stop. Think. Look at the barely-stirring windsock. Look at the dials. Look at the switches and levers. Think. Everything is correct and complete. This is it. Feet off the brakes, eyes up, and full throttle.

The ASI starts to nudge around. I didn’t check the RPM, which was an error, but the sound and acceleration were, on brief consideration, correct. Sixty-five knots, heave back… and I’m doing a good takeoff, watching for 75 knots, checking the heading, keeping a good attitude, and watching out for Yarnton appearing over the left cowling. The time for careful contemplation is over, because this is the performance. The performance is sprightly as expected one-up, and it needs a bit of a nudge down to maintain 75. Turn to crosswind is bang-on, fuel pump switched off, and 1500ft comes up a quarter of a mile before the turning point of the Yarnton warehouses. Attitude level, accelerate to 90 knots, reduce power, trim, look left and see Kidlington church lining up perfectly with Bletchingdon - time to turn downwind.

Now I’m lined-up downwind. Let’s get on with the checks: I say them out loud to myself as I touch the objects:

“Brakes are off (push lever against stop), the undercarriage is fixed (tapping the panel to assure myself there isn’t a lever there), the mixture is fully rich (push against stop), the flaps are zero (handle is on the floor), the fuel is on (fuel pump switched on, and the landing light is on too), the right tank is fuller and it’s selected (grope around for the valve lever, see it’s on right) and the pressure is good (touch dial), the propeller is fixed (note absence of blue lever)…”

I pause to look outside. We’re nearly abeam the upwind threshold.

“Golf Golf Juliet, downwind to land”

“Golf Golf Juliet, report final, you’re number one to land”

“Wilco, Golf Golf Juliet”

Heading and altitude is good. Now, where was I… ?

“Compass is one zero, DI is one zero, good… ninety knots, fifteen hundred feet, temperatures and pressures are good, carb head is off… on… off, all good… I MUST remember to select that in a moment when throttle back for the descent… and hatch and harness secure.” Checks complete, all is good.
Bletchingdon is a mile in front of me, just off to the right. The Tower talks to someone else inbound some distance away, and tells them to report four mile final. I’ve got about half a minute to kill before turning base. I allow myself a brief mental indulgence… here I am. I’m flying a aeroplane, on my own, on a beautiful summer’s evening over Oxfordshire. It’s very, very pretty up here as the sun drops down towards the “golden minutes”. Just down there on my left is the threshold of runway 19, where in about two minute’s time, I’m going to face one of the most significant and high-stakes tests of my life. But I’ve got a good hand: it’s no gamble.

Sure enough, my mental indulgence has lost me a hundred feet, as I sink through 1400 ft. Oh well, who’s to know? Now the big chimney is slipping under the left wing, and I’m nearly abeam the communications station. Wait for it… wait for it… and go: turn base. I’m dazzled by the sun, as I have been all evening on the base leg, but with a careful eye on the DI as I turn, I come out right on heading. Now reconfigure: take away a handful of throttle, 1700 rpm should do nicely since I’m slightly low. Now flaps: one click, hold steady, two clicks, hold steady… speed is rapidly dropping, here come seventy-five, and pitch down.

Aviators of aeroplanes with conventional piston engines who may be reading: did you see what I did there?

I didn’t. Kept on watching for seventy-five, unaware that I’d just made the mistake that kills so many people every year in less benign atmospheric circumstances. I recall that at the surface, the temperature was 21 degrees and the dew point 7 degrees, so at a thousand feet above the ground, I was clearly not in life-threateningly humid air. But that’s not good enough.

Trimmed for a nice stable 75 knots on base, and the runway centreline is approaching. Checked right, but no sign of the traffic the controller had spoken to a couple of minutes previously, so here we round onto final, a good steady seventy-five knots in the most dangerous turn. A tweak here and there, nudge the throttle, and I’m lined up, the runway numbers at a stationary aspect to the windshield.

“Golf Golf Juliet, final to land”

“Golf Golf Juliet clear to land, surface wind is light and variable”

“Clear to land, Golf Golf Juliet”

Perfect. This is it - I’ve still got plenty of distance to run. Destiny awaits at those painted numbers. I’ve got time to think. Have I got everything right? What have I forgotten?

I flip the carb heat on, maybe as much as a full minute after commencing the descent. I’m sorry, Louise. I’ll try not to kill myself in future. I’m struggling to understand how I kept managing to forget. I’ll find a method.

The numbers loom closer. The approach is just right: I’ve got a little bit of power on, right on 75 knots, and I’m going to intercept the runway just a short distance beyond the numbers. I could have cut the throttle to go straight for the numbers, but with 1500m available there was no point in making life more difficult for myself. The threshold looms ever larger: this is it. Over the threshold, gently remove power… now or never… looking for the picture, just trying to sense it…

Now.

I delicately swing the runway around underneath me, and everything falls into place perfectly. Brilliant. It’s such a delightful visual effect, the way the runway falls into position. Get the nose up… hold… hold… a bit of float… then I’m gently descending again, holding that nose attitude… I see the shadow in the corner of my left eye coming across the tarmac to meet me a little faster than I’d like… and with an ungraceful but untaxing bump, I’m down.

I’ve done it. OK, let’s get the aeroplane back home. Trundle down the runway and vacate, get out the checklist for the post-landing checks. My brain is fairly wrecked, but I get though them fine…

“Golf Golf Juliet, request taxy to PFT”

“Golf Golf Juliet, clear taxy to PFT, and congratulations - well done.”

“Taxy to PFT, and thank you very much, Golf Golf Juliet.”

Trundle back, to discover Paul and Louise waiting with a camera. Nice. I glanced at my knee pad:

CARB HEAT.

Well that was an effective method of reminding myself. Next time, I promise I’ll remember. Yeah, I know I said that last time…

Flown this session: 45 minutes

Flown so far: 17h 25m

After all the chaotic weather of the last three months, today summer finally deigned to pay us a visit. Light and variable winds, CAVOK, 21 degrees and gin-clear visibility - could not be better.

I knew something was up when I realised I’d be flying today with Louise, not Richard. She took a “sit back and let me get on with it” attitude - so I did. Got the checklist right and the radio right, but forgot to do the taxy checks - brakes, DI and turn co-ordinator. Tut tut. And so, we took off for the first circuit. Louise pointed out that I don’t really need to use the rudder much for turning: a habit I’d picked up with the 172s at Jerez was booting rudder in 30 degree turns, but it doesn’t seem necessary in the PA28. This is all good - stuff that Richard hadn’t picked up on. I also didn’t fly a very well-shaped circuit, but it was just the usual first-circuit cackhandedness. More importantly, I failed to set the carb heat when configuring for approach. This turned out to be a recurrent theme. On the first couple of circuits, the approach was far too high, causing me to glide pretty much the whole of final. But these are all (apart from the carb heat) relatively small matters: the real business was nailing the elusive landing.

First time around, I flared correctly, but let the nose drop. Louise accused me of pushing the nose forwards: actually, it was just a slight relaxation of back-pressure. But either way, it was wrong! Following a slight intervention from her, a satisfactory landing was made, and off we went again.

Second time, the circuit was still a glide all the way in, and once again I forgot the carb heat! But I rescued the approach nicely, flared just right, the picture just coming together in front of me in the most gratifying way; and I held the nose, held it up… and we bumped down on the mains. I relaxed the back-pressure, plonking the nosewheel down rather too abruptly - but we were down. So having “touched,” I prepared to “go”… and as I checked all was happy waiting for 65 knots to appear, Louise pointed out…

She hadn’t touched the controls on that landing.

Nice.

Next circuit, I remembered to apply carb heat - somewhat after the throttle-reducing event, though. Louise pleaded with me to remember it, and I got the distinct impression that there was a specific reason for her wanting to see me remember it properly at least once. But on base with the engine in a safe configuration, the approach was better, keeping power on all the way to the threshold. The runway came up to greet me, the picture just slotted into place, held off, gently touched down on the mains, and let the nosewheel sink down. I realised that the low sun was casting a very helpful shadow of the aircraft in my peripheral vision, giving me an excellent indication of height while I kept my vision fixed towards the far end of the runway. Using these two indications together, I could accurately control the descent of the aircraft onto the ground.

So round we went, once again. I was just starting to feel the first signs of tiredness as we climbed out to crosswind, but I was staying on top of things. Louise was a bit more chatty, and I got the impression that she was judging my level of tiredness and mental capacity, striking up conversation as we approached circuit height in the climb, and also as we passed the upwind threshold - forcing me to delay the downwind call and checks.

And at some point, she decided that we were going to land this time. Clearly, she was going to send me solo.

Another textbook circuit (apart from - incredibly - being tardy with the carb heat yet again). She actually made a number of rather nice comments during the session about my flying being “textbook”, apart from the landings at first - she actually asked after the first landing whether I had a “feel” for it, which was a rather baffling question. Apparently, she feared that I was doing the approach and flare purely from knowledge gleaned from books, not the preceding four hours of circuit tuition, and wanted to make sure I was actually flying it from the three-dimensional visual cues! Odd. In the preceding lesson, I’d only got the visual cues and consequent control once in eight circuits, and I think it was a fluke. Today, it came every time. The runway looked right, I gave gentle back pressure, and it swung into place beneath me: a most satisfying visual effect. Maintaining the back pressure to hold the nose attitude, the runway just gently rose up to meet the mains with a slightly ungraceful bump.

So we landed as nicely as the previous time, rolled to the end of the runway, and she took control to expedite our taxy back to PFT…

(posted late, because I forgot to press the “Publish” button…) Another week, another three lessons cancelled due to weather. Two of them were quite horrendous weather, but Tuesday was looking perfect: fresh and sunny, great visibility, a few light cumulus at 3500, Brize METAR indicating 8 knots westerly… but at Oxford, it was 10-15 knots perpendicular to the runway. Damn.

Still, this next coming Tuesday is currently looking good. Let’s hope for the best.

Hours flown today: 1h 20m

Hours flown so far: 16h 40m

Another session of circuits yesterday. Despite the line of CBs forecast to slowly drift up from the south coast, the weather was still looking fine for my 12:00 lesson, so off we went. And despite the cumulus base at under 2000ft and the bumpy thermal air, it was a glorious day to be aloft.

We were on runway 19 for a change, flying the 01 circuit in reverse. I find the visual nav in the circuit easier this way round, for some reason. Maybe it’s because the visual references for the 19 base leg are so much clearer: turn base over Bletchingdon, aim to pass well north of the chimney and just south of the satellite station, and the alignment is perfect for final. The first circuit was a little ropey, but I settled down well after that and was flying pretty well: accurate path over the ground, good control of height and airspeed, and one time I even managed to get the downwind checks completed before reaching the upwind threshold. I also found that I could re-configure the plane for descent on base much more quickly, if I set the throttle by ear instead of by RPM dial: level out from the turn to base, pull the throttle back until it sounds right, haul on two stages of flap and compensate for the nose-down pitch… and within a few seconds, 75 knots is reached and it’s time to pitch down for the descent.

My approaches were good. A quick check of the movement of the numbers against the windshield was all that was needed to nail the vertical profile every time. And overall, my control of the aircraft in the circuit was much more fluent and precise.

So if I’m flying so brilliantly, why am I not solo? Well, it’s just this little matter of landing the thing. The round-out was better than before, but I’m still not quite getting it. Having worried about rounding-out too high, I was rounding-out too low on the first couple of circuits, provoking urgent intervention from the instructor. I’m sort-of getting the picture of the nose attitude in the hold-off, but I’m not consistent. There was only one landing - the penultimate one - where I felt that I was anticipating the aeroplane and that I was in control as it gently sank in ground-effect at the right attitude. That was a beautiful landing, but it remains a one-off, and I think the instructor still had to intervene slightly. On the other landings, I was still making the dreadful mistake of tipping the nose downward if the aircraft rose too high, a perfect recipe for a mashed nosewheel. The correct course of action is (assuming there’s plenty of runway and the aircraft isn’t too high and slow) to simply hold the nose attitude in the touch-down position, let the speed bleed off, and the aircraft gently sink in the landing attitude as the lift reduces. I think my eyes were in the right place, so I should be all set to nail this manouevre. But it just hasn’t clicked yet.

Got three lessons booked this week, though I suspect only Tuesday may be flyable. I’m getting so near to cracking this landing now. I could get frustrated that I’m not making it: but with every lesson, my general handling skills get so much better, so it’s no bad thing that solo is a little delayed. Every dual lesson I have in the circuit boosts my chances of making it past first solo alive!

Had a perfect forecast yesterday for my latest lesson of circuit-bashing at 18:00: 5kt variable winds, scattered mid-level cumulus and gin-clear visibility. But the phone rings about 15:00, and it’s PFT. Apparently, it’s “too windy”. Hmm… it’s three and a half hours until I get airborne, and on cumulus-filled summer days like yesterday the wind often seems to die down in the early evening. I’m really not convinced. But also… the aircraft “has gone tech”.

OK, so I’m not going flying. Instead, I sat at home, and listened to the ATIS at 18:30… 8-10 kts close to the runway.

<sigh>

Hours on this day: 1h 00m

Hours so far: 15h 20m

Well, after a gap of nearly five weeks, and nine consecutive lessons cancellations due to weather, I finally got back in the sky yesterday! ATIS was giving 300/10 for runway 01 - almost a ten knot crosswind - but by the time we got out there it was a much more benign 300/05 on a beautiful clear summer’s evening. I fully expected to be quite rusty after the long gap, and my instructor made it easy for me by taking care of the radio on the first circuit, and letting me get on with seeing how much I could remember. The lesson was made substantially more comfortable by my marvellous new headset, too.

All considered, the first circuit wasn’t as bad as I’d feared, and I got things mostly nailed on the subsequent circuits. But by the end of it, I think I’m probably not much further ahead than I was at the end of the previous lesson. A good illustration of how easy it is to lose the skills so precariously lodged in memory.

Taxy and takeoff was pretty straightforward now, and my rudder control on the runway was improved. But I drifted substantially off the centreline after takeoff, because I’d chosen a point on the ground ahead as my directional reference: and that’s not visible when climbing! I should pick a distant cloud point in future, unless it’s rapidly moving sideways. Climbing out on the second or third circuit, the instructor closed the throttle - I’d probably taken my hand off it, fool that I am - , told me the engine had failed, and asked what I’d do. My first reaction was instinctively correct: I lowered the nose, and the most important thing is to get 75 knots established. I pointed out an open field of what looked like stubble (but may in retrospect have been ripe wheat!) off to our left - luckily, another good call as it was into-wind. So, that’s Engine Failure After Take Off I can mark in the log book now. Continuing the climb out, I managed to remember to turn off the fuel pump every time, once established on crosswind. Transitioning from the climb to level downwind was occasionally hit-and-miss, partly because the throttle response was a bit different in this aircraft: I had to pull the lever half-way back before power started to reduce from 100%. Downwind checks were a little slow, but I always completed them in time and made no omissions. I was sometimes getting a bit disorientated at late downwind, trying to spot the right place to turn. It transpired that I’d been cutting west into the circuit a little, and was almost over-flying Yarnton, which probably explained why I wasn’t able to see the characteristic open gap between Yarnton and the railway providing a nice familiar corridor for me to fly along. The trick is to keep the Yarnton business park to the right, which avoids the village, gives better visibility of the turning point, and gives a longer base leg.

Once on base, I was having difficulty re-configuring the aircraft quickly enough, partly because I was dazzled by the sun so I couldn’t see the RPM, ASI or the carb heat switch (I kept on knocking the throttle friction instead!). I also didn’t compensate very well for the change in attitude on selecting flaps: the flaps cause a downwards pitch moment, but if the speed is still too high, it’s necessary to apply more elevator back pressure to maintain level flight to lose speed. Turn to final was mostly good - except for the one time I completely overshot the runway centreline and had some interesting manoeuvering to get back on it, causing both myself and the instructor to forget to call final! Oops.

I got the directional control pretty much nailed (as opposed to the last lesson), but the vertical profile was all over the place. I was tending to get far too low on final - on one approach, all the PAPIs were red! Considering that the PAPI glideslope is considerably shallower than a light aircraft glideslope, this was not at all good. I’d forgotten the simple matter of maintaining a constant aspect of the runway, such that it is stationary against the windshield. Still, I applied power as required, and got us over the threshold at roughly the right speed, moving in roughly the right direction, and at roughly the right height, every time. I should also check the VSI from time to time: if I’ve started the descent at the right place, it should be around 500 fpm. Much more than 700 fpm without good cause, and I’m going to have quite a major downwards deviation from the desired approach.

On landing, a similar story: directional control was good, but I still wasn’t getting the round-out right. On the first approach, I felt that I’d rounded out too high so went around, but following the instructor’s debriefing, I’m not sure that I was too high. I’m not co-ordinating the throttle-back with the round-out: they should happen together. And most crucially, I’m not getting the nose high enough after the round-out. I did a couple of three-pointer landings, but it’s such a fine line between a three-pointer and a crumpled nosewheel that they’re best avoided.

So what do I need to do to rectify this? I think I need to:

• Smoothly and progressively reduce power at the same time as rounding-out.
• Focus my attention on a middle-distant point of the runway while rounding out.
• Get the right picture in my head of the nose attitude against the horizon for the hold-off.

Perhaps in the next lesson, I should ask the instructor to make the landing, so I can concentrate on getting that picture fixed in my head. If I can nail that, there seems to be nothing else holding me back now from flying a good circuit. And maybe one day, all by myself!