No, not on the Internet. I'm writing this so obviously I must be...oh, never mind. What I mean, is that I'm almost online as a flight instructor! It's been a few since my last post, so an update is in order.
After coming home from my CFI training, I contacted the two flight schools in the local area. RIC is the domain of ATP, and now that I sit here and think about it, I guess they could be an option once I get the -II (soon) and MEI (not on the horizon). At any rate, I contacted the two flight schools and impatiently awaited the opportunity to interview with the both. After what seemed like an eternity of a week and a few days, I finally had my two interviews scheduled. Now, as someone with an IT background, I've been to quite a few interviews in the last 10 years. Because of the demand for my IT skills, I never really felt any pressure going into an interview, because there was always "someone else" that would hire me. Despite the almost rabid demand for flight instructors, I was nervous as heck going into both interviews. Maybe it was because there are only two players in town. Maybe it was because it was it is a new endeavor and I want to get off to a good start in my new career field. Maybe, and probably, it was some of both. Whatever the case, I was nervous. Both were relaxed affairs, and, long story short, ended in my getting job offers. I should have expected it, with the demand levels, but you never know. Of course, it's always nice to be wanted.
After much gnashing of teeth, I chose the "other guy", as in the one that I did NOT do my flight training at. My home FBO was definitely disappointed, but understanding. The main two reasons I made the choice were 1) pay and 2) opportunity. I think it's hard to argue with that. My new employer is part of a larger entity that includes a busy charter department, and it's written right in the handbook that, if the need exists, flight instructors can transition into flying charters. That is a very nice option to have.
After another eternity of two weeks, I finally got into the aircraft this week for my checkouts. My flight school has a mixed Cessna and Diamond fleet, although they are about to become a certified Diamond training center, which is pretty exciting with the prospect of getting one or more Diamond TwinStars online and having D-Jets in and out from time to time. We were also recently awarded the distinction of being the sole distributor of Diamond aircraft in a 6 state area, which is also very exciting. The more I write, the better I feel about making the decision I did. So anyway, for my checkouts I had to go up in a DA-20, which I've never flown, and a C-172 which I've flown A LOT. One of our instructors is a retired airline pilot, and he did my checkout in the Diamond. It is a slick and slippery little airplane, and it's easy to get up into the yellow arc if you don't watch your speed. In fact, my first landing was actually not a landing, but a go around for that reason. I turned final at 90 kts, and could never get rid of it. I couldn't even get into the white for the last notch of flaps, which would have been just what I needed. On the second trip, we used approach flaps on the downwind, "just like you'll do it at the airlines" Jim told me. That sent a little chill up my spine. Jim likes to spread the Diamond checkout over two flights, so I've got one more coming up. I'm rather looking forward to it.
The Cessna checkout was a non-event, oh, except for me performing the worst steep turns I've ever done. It took four tries to get them to standard. And I'm supposed to teach people to do this??? I would have been really rattled if I hadn't just ripped off some brilliant flight at MCA at about 37 knots without losing a foot of altitude (yes, I'm stroking the ego to compensate for those nasty steep turns). Our chief flight instructor dismissed it as "rust"...whatever you say, you're the boss!
I also decided that today was the day to let the boss (the IT one) know that sometime in the near future I'd be leaving as a full-time consultant. It wasn't an official resignation, more of a heads up. My hope is that I can transition to a part time IT guy and fly 4 days per week. That will help ease the shock of giving up so much income, while letting me build my time at a faster rate. He seemed to be understanding and very appreciative of the notice. Just goes to show, too much communication is never a bad thing...unless you're hogging the airwaves, but ATC will let you know about it.
This is aviation cliche, but I can't believe that I'm getting paid to fly airplanes. If you can say "I can't believe I get paid to do this" about whatever you do, you are in a good place and be grateful. My wife is truly an angel sent to me - one with the patience and understanding of a saint. I would not have come this far without her love and support, and I won't continue without it. I give all the glory to her, and to the Man upstairs for planting this passion in my heart. I hope one day I can show her the same support that she has shown me. Although...I know what she wants, and it requires diaper changes...the day that our daughter was potty trained was one of the best days of my life, not looking forward to that part again....
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Lily Lake
This is mostly a test to see if I can add photos from my flickr account. It has the added benefit of sharing some of the beauty that I experienced in Colorado. Took this one hiking around Lily Lake just south of Estes Park, CO.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Some More Letters to Add
- F - I! The aviation Gods were kind, and I was treated to a gorgeous, unseasonably warm week in Denver, CO for my CFI training. Not only did it provide great flying weather, but it had another, unexpected side effect that I'll touch on in a minute.
My training was conducted with Hulley Aero Training at the Front Range Airport. Of the airports in the Denver, FTG seems to be the "forgotten one". One morning as I was approaching the airport in my car a tumbleweed actually blew across the access road...how metaphorical. The people there were super nice, and both the airport facilities and the aircraft themselves were in fantastic condition. The bulk of my training was focused on flying - and teaching - from the right seat. Flying in the high country was a little different than I am used to. Because of the density altitude, the underpowered Cessna 172 RG I was flying struggled for altitude with every circuit of the pattern. A new experience for sure. Outside of that, there is nothing like climbing away into a clear blue sky with the [lightly] snow capped Rocky Mountains as your backdrop. I can't count the number of times that I only half heard my instructor, because I was too busy taking in the landscape. Just incredible.
One thing I'll really miss, from a flying standpoint, is the section lines on the ground. Every powerline, road, etc. is oriented either East-West or North-South, and make fantastic references for rolling out on headings. My use of outside references was better by the end of the week than it has ever been, and my flying was much better for it.
As for the actual flying, we covered everything in the PTS: from straight and level flight, to steep turns, to every stall in the book, to all the ground reference maneuvers, to every type of takeoff and landing - many, many, many times - all from the right seat. My flying was really good. My landings were really bad. Acceptable, but bad. Apparently Bruce thought it was good enough, because I started the checkride on schedule.
As expected, the week whizzed by, and Thursday night was the beginning of my oral. If you want to read the full write-up on my checkride, you can find it here. It's long, as it was a long day, so I won't duplicate efforts. The bottom line is, I passed, and I'm now a CFI!
With the checkride out of the way, I had a full day to explore the magnificent Rockies. Aside from the altitude kicking my butt and preventing me from making a hike I wanted to (Long's Peak), I had a great time driving along the Peak to Peak highway and taking pictures. Which brings me to my earlier comment - I want to move to Colorado. Not only do I want to move to Colorado, but my wife wants to move to Colorado. Oy vey! I am tentatively scheduled to start instructing full time here in VA, some feelers out to other airports, a job offer from a law firm for an IT position, and a wife who is tapped to be the next president of the Chamber of Commerce - all that and we want to move to another state without jobs, knowing no one, so we can be mountainhippieliberals. Life is a trip...
My training was conducted with Hulley Aero Training at the Front Range Airport. Of the airports in the Denver, FTG seems to be the "forgotten one". One morning as I was approaching the airport in my car a tumbleweed actually blew across the access road...how metaphorical. The people there were super nice, and both the airport facilities and the aircraft themselves were in fantastic condition. The bulk of my training was focused on flying - and teaching - from the right seat. Flying in the high country was a little different than I am used to. Because of the density altitude, the underpowered Cessna 172 RG I was flying struggled for altitude with every circuit of the pattern. A new experience for sure. Outside of that, there is nothing like climbing away into a clear blue sky with the [lightly] snow capped Rocky Mountains as your backdrop. I can't count the number of times that I only half heard my instructor, because I was too busy taking in the landscape. Just incredible.
One thing I'll really miss, from a flying standpoint, is the section lines on the ground. Every powerline, road, etc. is oriented either East-West or North-South, and make fantastic references for rolling out on headings. My use of outside references was better by the end of the week than it has ever been, and my flying was much better for it.
As for the actual flying, we covered everything in the PTS: from straight and level flight, to steep turns, to every stall in the book, to all the ground reference maneuvers, to every type of takeoff and landing - many, many, many times - all from the right seat. My flying was really good. My landings were really bad. Acceptable, but bad. Apparently Bruce thought it was good enough, because I started the checkride on schedule.
As expected, the week whizzed by, and Thursday night was the beginning of my oral. If you want to read the full write-up on my checkride, you can find it here. It's long, as it was a long day, so I won't duplicate efforts. The bottom line is, I passed, and I'm now a CFI!
With the checkride out of the way, I had a full day to explore the magnificent Rockies. Aside from the altitude kicking my butt and preventing me from making a hike I wanted to (Long's Peak), I had a great time driving along the Peak to Peak highway and taking pictures. Which brings me to my earlier comment - I want to move to Colorado. Not only do I want to move to Colorado, but my wife wants to move to Colorado. Oy vey! I am tentatively scheduled to start instructing full time here in VA, some feelers out to other airports, a job offer from a law firm for an IT position, and a wife who is tapped to be the next president of the Chamber of Commerce - all that and we want to move to another state without jobs, knowing no one, so we can be mountainhippieliberals. Life is a trip...
Monday, October 29, 2007
Been awhile
I wish I had a better excuse for not posting in three months, but I really don't. I spend countless hours on the Internet engaging in "non-work-related" activity, so you'd think I would be able to carve out 10 minutes to write a blog post. Well, that's what I'm going to do now...
As you can imagine, stuff does happen in the span of three months, and quite a lot has for me on the aviation front. For starters, I finished my commercial single engine rating. I guess Plan C ended up being the charm. As I wrote in one of the previous posts, our Arrow went down and, though doctors did everything they could, they were unable to save it. I still don't believe they've replaced it yet, although the word is that they are trying. Long story short, I went back up to Philadelphia and completed the checkride at the place where it all began. I won't go into too much detail, but the oral was about an hour, and the flight was 2.5. Yikes! The oral was a strange affair, as we spent the entire time talking about regs. It wasn't even a question and answer, it was more of a free form discussion. Even when we did talk about my flight plan, the only question asked was "can you legally make this flight?" (There was a tropical storm off the coast that day). At the time I was silently counting my good fortune, but several days later something really hit home: being a commercial pilot is really about staying out of trouble. If something goes wrong, the NTSB is going to try to blame you, and they will do anything and everything to support their case. Are your logbooks accurate? Did you get a weather briefing? Were the aircraft's maintenance records up-to-date, and did you know they were/weren't? A quick read through the accident reports on NTSB.gov will confirm this. See how many are attriubuted to pilot error: CFIT, inadvertent flight into IMC, failure to maintain aircraft control, you name it, they will pin it on you. I won't talk much about the flight, but like I said, it was 2.5 and covered everything in the PTS, some things more than once ;)
With that out of the way, it was time to figure out where I should hemorrhage some more money, and I settled on the multi add on. I almost hesitate to tell this story, because it only involved a Plan A, and I have the next Plan A already in effect.....hmmmmm.....alright I will (please aviation Gods of Karma be nice...) After some shopping around, I located a relatively local outfit that offered a 3-day multi add on. The aviation Gods were kind, and we agreed to do the checkride on the second day, which meant a weekend away from home. The wife and daughter were in NJ, so I didn't even have to feel bad about being away. As if it couldn't get any better, I had two days of perfectly cloudless sky. The place was O & S Aviation (www.osaviation.com) and I can't recommend them enough. They are located just west of Chapel Hill, NC in beautiful NC countryside. It really was beautiful, and if I wasn't doing VMC demos or securing "failed" engines, you can bet I was taking in the views. After 7 hours of flying around a Twin Comanche on one engine, I was ready for the checkride and before you know it, I was on the way home with yet another temporary certificate. The only bad part was that the radio in my car is so bad I couldn't pick up any NFL games on the way home, which I love doing on a Sunday afternoon road trip. Oh well!
For that other Plan A I mentioned...this Friday I'm going out west to see about getting this CFI rating. I'm not going to say where, or with who, or for how long, because I don't want to anger the aviation Gods. I passed the writtens a couple of weeks ago in fine fashion: I finally learned after all this time that the best way to deal with a written is to spend a weekend hammering through practice tests, and take the tests on Monday. Wish I had figured that out a couple of years ago! I have now learned in my FOI (Fundamentals of Instruction) studies that this is referred to as "rote" learning. Hey, I guess I did learn something!
Anyway, I've been studying my arse off for the CFI and writing lesson plans like a madman. I decided to write one lesson plan for every subject area in the PTS, which should put me in the range of 50 or so going into next week. That may be overkill, but that way I know I will have covered everything that an examiner should on a checkride. My goal is to basically be ready for the oral, so next week will be spent on review and trying to learn to teach - and fly - from the right seat. I know I am shaking my fist at the aviation Gods by trying to do this in the western US this time of year, and trust me, I am definitely worried. My knuckles will be bloodied by knocking on so much wood this week...
Of course, the one little detail I haven't covered is the matter of my spin endorsement.....ah yes, right on cue there are the sweaty palms...I've talked to one of my instructors about doing that before I head out, so by the end of this week I should have another post on how that wasn't so bad after all...knock on wood
As you can imagine, stuff does happen in the span of three months, and quite a lot has for me on the aviation front. For starters, I finished my commercial single engine rating. I guess Plan C ended up being the charm. As I wrote in one of the previous posts, our Arrow went down and, though doctors did everything they could, they were unable to save it. I still don't believe they've replaced it yet, although the word is that they are trying. Long story short, I went back up to Philadelphia and completed the checkride at the place where it all began. I won't go into too much detail, but the oral was about an hour, and the flight was 2.5. Yikes! The oral was a strange affair, as we spent the entire time talking about regs. It wasn't even a question and answer, it was more of a free form discussion. Even when we did talk about my flight plan, the only question asked was "can you legally make this flight?" (There was a tropical storm off the coast that day). At the time I was silently counting my good fortune, but several days later something really hit home: being a commercial pilot is really about staying out of trouble. If something goes wrong, the NTSB is going to try to blame you, and they will do anything and everything to support their case. Are your logbooks accurate? Did you get a weather briefing? Were the aircraft's maintenance records up-to-date, and did you know they were/weren't? A quick read through the accident reports on NTSB.gov will confirm this. See how many are attriubuted to pilot error: CFIT, inadvertent flight into IMC, failure to maintain aircraft control, you name it, they will pin it on you. I won't talk much about the flight, but like I said, it was 2.5 and covered everything in the PTS, some things more than once ;)
With that out of the way, it was time to figure out where I should hemorrhage some more money, and I settled on the multi add on. I almost hesitate to tell this story, because it only involved a Plan A, and I have the next Plan A already in effect.....hmmmmm.....alright I will (please aviation Gods of Karma be nice...) After some shopping around, I located a relatively local outfit that offered a 3-day multi add on. The aviation Gods were kind, and we agreed to do the checkride on the second day, which meant a weekend away from home. The wife and daughter were in NJ, so I didn't even have to feel bad about being away. As if it couldn't get any better, I had two days of perfectly cloudless sky. The place was O & S Aviation (www.osaviation.com) and I can't recommend them enough. They are located just west of Chapel Hill, NC in beautiful NC countryside. It really was beautiful, and if I wasn't doing VMC demos or securing "failed" engines, you can bet I was taking in the views. After 7 hours of flying around a Twin Comanche on one engine, I was ready for the checkride and before you know it, I was on the way home with yet another temporary certificate. The only bad part was that the radio in my car is so bad I couldn't pick up any NFL games on the way home, which I love doing on a Sunday afternoon road trip. Oh well!
For that other Plan A I mentioned...this Friday I'm going out west to see about getting this CFI rating. I'm not going to say where, or with who, or for how long, because I don't want to anger the aviation Gods. I passed the writtens a couple of weeks ago in fine fashion: I finally learned after all this time that the best way to deal with a written is to spend a weekend hammering through practice tests, and take the tests on Monday. Wish I had figured that out a couple of years ago! I have now learned in my FOI (Fundamentals of Instruction) studies that this is referred to as "rote" learning. Hey, I guess I did learn something!
Anyway, I've been studying my arse off for the CFI and writing lesson plans like a madman. I decided to write one lesson plan for every subject area in the PTS, which should put me in the range of 50 or so going into next week. That may be overkill, but that way I know I will have covered everything that an examiner should on a checkride. My goal is to basically be ready for the oral, so next week will be spent on review and trying to learn to teach - and fly - from the right seat. I know I am shaking my fist at the aviation Gods by trying to do this in the western US this time of year, and trust me, I am definitely worried. My knuckles will be bloodied by knocking on so much wood this week...
Of course, the one little detail I haven't covered is the matter of my spin endorsement.....ah yes, right on cue there are the sweaty palms...I've talked to one of my instructors about doing that before I head out, so by the end of this week I should have another post on how that wasn't so bad after all...knock on wood
Saturday, August 4, 2007
So much for Plan "B"
In my previous post I wrote about my beautiful wife's observation that all of my flight endeavors seem to resort to some sort of Plan B. Well, now I can now say that sometimes, even Plan B doesn't work.
I'm still trying to figure out what sort of sign God is trying to send me, but in the meantime, here are the details: I was exchanging emails with our local DE to schedule a time in the next week for my commercial checkride. We had exchanged schedules, and then I received a final email from him, that I expected would have a date. Instead it went something like "Which plane were you using for the checkride. I hope it wasn't the Arrow. The gear collapsed during landing yesterday..."
What in the world? First and foremost, let me express my sincere hope that the occupants are okay. Secondly let me express this sentiment: WTF? Of course I was going to use the Arrow, it's the only complex aircraft in Central VA!!!! This is the kind of luck I've had with this process. I'm speechless, though my wife assures me that I should not be surprised. I haven't called the FBO to get the full story yet and see if everyone is unharmed, and if the Arrow is ever going to recover, but in the meantime I'm trying to get His ear and figure out exactly what it is He wants me to do here.
Now, I just need to figure out what Plan C looks like. Anybody out there got an Arrow? Crikey...
I'm still trying to figure out what sort of sign God is trying to send me, but in the meantime, here are the details: I was exchanging emails with our local DE to schedule a time in the next week for my commercial checkride. We had exchanged schedules, and then I received a final email from him, that I expected would have a date. Instead it went something like "Which plane were you using for the checkride. I hope it wasn't the Arrow. The gear collapsed during landing yesterday..."
What in the world? First and foremost, let me express my sincere hope that the occupants are okay. Secondly let me express this sentiment: WTF? Of course I was going to use the Arrow, it's the only complex aircraft in Central VA!!!! This is the kind of luck I've had with this process. I'm speechless, though my wife assures me that I should not be surprised. I haven't called the FBO to get the full story yet and see if everyone is unharmed, and if the Arrow is ever going to recover, but in the meantime I'm trying to get His ear and figure out exactly what it is He wants me to do here.
Now, I just need to figure out what Plan C looks like. Anybody out there got an Arrow? Crikey...
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Plan "B"
"It's always Plan B" my lovely wife says. Well, unfortunately, for my flight training that has been the case, and this was no exception. I travelled to Philadelphia this past weekend with hopes of knocking out my 10 hours of complex time and squeezing in a checkride just before hitting the road, but Plan A unfolded almost as quickly as it was enacted. Upon arrival at the FBO Friday morning and meeting the instructor to whom I was assigned, I discovered that he was off on Sunday and they couldn't backfill him with another instructor. Which means that Sunday would be a lost day. Okay, we'll fly 5 hours today and 5 hours tomorrow. Not so fast, this instructor gets off at 3:30 every day. "Well, when would you do the night cross country?" you might ask. Maybe on Monday evening, was the proposed answer. Well I need to be at work on Tuesday, so that won't work. Perhaps next weekend? Perhaps, but I'd rather not. I'm already getting that feeling in the pit of my stomach, so decided to fly as much as possible on Friday and see where we got. When 3:30 rolled around, all of 2 hours is where we got, after spending most of the morning in ground school. I started to get the suspicion that ad-hoc, part 61 training just wasn't going to work for this 141 school, which is fine. Don't get me wrong, my goal is to pass the checkride, and pass it with much room to spare and learn along the way, but I have to balance all this with the fact that my time away from home is limited due to the whole day job thingy. We did get through all of the maneuvers, which was good as I hadn't been exposed to the commercial maneuvers before.
A quick side note: I typically don't nit-pick on my instructors, as they know far more than I, but I couldn't help but notice that during a steep turn demonstration my instructor dujour, while trying to gain altitude for some oddball reason, bled speed off to the point that the plane was buffeting at the edge of a stall. All this while in a 55 degree bank at about 2200' AGL. I wasn't really feeling that, so I discreetly pushed as hard as possible on the yoke with my index finger while saying something to the effect of "watch your airspeed". Something about stalling and spinning into the ground just didn't sit well with me, but I digress.
On Saturday, we managed to get in the day cross country, which was a beautiful severe-clear affair across the PA mountains to Williamsport. Not sure I need to get back there, but it is a gorgeous part of the country, with runway 9/27 nestled right at the base of a good-sized mountain (by eastern US standards, anyway). Upon return to the Philly area, we ran through the maneuvers, and then capped it off with a power off 180 - which I need power to land from - which netted us a whopping 4 hours of flight time, leaving me 60% of the way there, as the title implies After weighing my options, and looking at a Sunday replete of flying, and with a pesky customer issue looming at work, I decided to return to my home and punt.
And thus, Plan B is in effect, and will kick off with a night cross country to an as-yet-undecided location tomorrow evening. More to follow...
A quick side note: I typically don't nit-pick on my instructors, as they know far more than I, but I couldn't help but notice that during a steep turn demonstration my instructor dujour, while trying to gain altitude for some oddball reason, bled speed off to the point that the plane was buffeting at the edge of a stall. All this while in a 55 degree bank at about 2200' AGL. I wasn't really feeling that, so I discreetly pushed as hard as possible on the yoke with my index finger while saying something to the effect of "watch your airspeed". Something about stalling and spinning into the ground just didn't sit well with me, but I digress.
On Saturday, we managed to get in the day cross country, which was a beautiful severe-clear affair across the PA mountains to Williamsport. Not sure I need to get back there, but it is a gorgeous part of the country, with runway 9/27 nestled right at the base of a good-sized mountain (by eastern US standards, anyway). Upon return to the Philly area, we ran through the maneuvers, and then capped it off with a power off 180 - which I need power to land from - which netted us a whopping 4 hours of flight time, leaving me 60% of the way there, as the title implies After weighing my options, and looking at a Sunday replete of flying, and with a pesky customer issue looming at work, I decided to return to my home and punt.
And thus, Plan B is in effect, and will kick off with a night cross country to an as-yet-undecided location tomorrow evening. More to follow...
Friday, July 13, 2007
Wiggle your big toe
I've decided to make a more concerted effort to post an entry at least once every couple of weeks, or more often if something really interesting goes on (rare).
I've also decided to get off my but and knock out my commercial and multi-engine ratings. I'm heading up to Philadelphia next week for 4 concentrated days of flying, followed immediately by a trip to Connecticut for 2 concentrated days of flying for the multi. "Then what?" you may ask. Then, I'm going to try to take advantage of some of these ridiculously low minimums posted by the bottom feeders of the airline industry. There are only about four that fall into this category - not naming names - so my chances are slim at best. But I'll never know if I don't at least try. Which is the impetus for this whole riduculous endeavor, and my marching chant.
Someone asked me a couple of weeks ago what the end game is. I didn't really have an answer, which I guess I need to change. I've always wanted to fly corporate, but I've talked to a handful of people lately in that sector of the industry that really don't like mixing a little bit of flying with a lot of, sometimes a days worth of, waiting. I don't necessarily want to work all the way up to flying heavies for the majors and staring at the sun for 12 hours on end on the way to Hong Kong (talked to a friend of a 777 captain who does this and he says it's awful, although I'm sure working 10 days a month and making $180K temper it a bit...). If the pay situation improves, a regional captain wouldn't be a bad place to be, but that is a huge "If" right now. The 757 is my favorite plane and we like Louisville, so there's something to shoot for...I guess I'll figure it out as I go along. But first things first:
"Wiggle your big toe"
Once I've got this commercial-multi knocked out then I'll "get these other piggies wiggling".
(That's from Kill Bill Vol. 1 for the uninitiated)
I've also decided to get off my but and knock out my commercial and multi-engine ratings. I'm heading up to Philadelphia next week for 4 concentrated days of flying, followed immediately by a trip to Connecticut for 2 concentrated days of flying for the multi. "Then what?" you may ask. Then, I'm going to try to take advantage of some of these ridiculously low minimums posted by the bottom feeders of the airline industry. There are only about four that fall into this category - not naming names - so my chances are slim at best. But I'll never know if I don't at least try. Which is the impetus for this whole riduculous endeavor, and my marching chant.
Someone asked me a couple of weeks ago what the end game is. I didn't really have an answer, which I guess I need to change. I've always wanted to fly corporate, but I've talked to a handful of people lately in that sector of the industry that really don't like mixing a little bit of flying with a lot of, sometimes a days worth of, waiting. I don't necessarily want to work all the way up to flying heavies for the majors and staring at the sun for 12 hours on end on the way to Hong Kong (talked to a friend of a 777 captain who does this and he says it's awful, although I'm sure working 10 days a month and making $180K temper it a bit...). If the pay situation improves, a regional captain wouldn't be a bad place to be, but that is a huge "If" right now. The 757 is my favorite plane and we like Louisville, so there's something to shoot for...I guess I'll figure it out as I go along. But first things first:
"Wiggle your big toe"
Once I've got this commercial-multi knocked out then I'll "get these other piggies wiggling".
(That's from Kill Bill Vol. 1 for the uninitiated)
Thursday, May 10, 2007
There are those who have (originally posted 5-10-07)
So, my first aviation post of this blog is also about my first hair-raising experience in an aircraft (well, second if you count the door popping open during my solo cross country, which I didn’t complete due to wore-than-forecast weather conditions…perhaps I’ll save that for another time). It wasn’t exactly an emergency situation, although the controller hinted at it; “do you require any assistance?” were his exact words. I’ll get to that in a second.
Today’s mission was a relatively short Angel Flight, departing Richmond to Raleigh-Durham Int’l to pick up a passenger, transport her to Norfolk Int’l, and then make the return trip to Richmond. I had a pretty tight timetable, as once I got home we were off to our friends’ house at the river for some rest and relaxation for the remainder of the weekend. How many dangerous flying situations have started with a tight timetable? The day started with a low sitting off the coast, pulling moisture in from the Atlantic and spreading it over coastal and central Virginia in the form of low clouds and visibilities. The weather close to home was actually pretty good, and left me flying beneath a 7000′ overcast for the trip to RDU, with the occasional cloud allowing me to log all of .3 of actual. Off to my left the picture was a little different; thick gray clouds descended from the overcast above me to about 2-3000 feet below me. It was almost like flying below a shelf of terminal airspace, with the airspace being filled with rolling wet clouds. The sight left me hoping it would improve in the next couple of hours, which the forecast assured me it would. After a quick turn and a departure into clear blue - but windy on the backside of the front - skies at RDU, we pointed to the northeast for the trip to ORF. It was only an hour with a generous tailwind, and at first it looked like it would be clear sailing for the duration. About 50 miles out, we found ourselves in solid IMC and just starting to receive vectors to the ILS to runway 5. As thick and dark as the clouds were, it was the smoothest flying of the entire day, and quite peaceful even with streaks of rain streaming across the windshield. About 20 miles out, I caught the slightest flicker of red from somewhere on the panel; it was so quick that I wasn’t sure at first where it came from. A minute or two later, I found out as the low voltage warning light came on and stayed on. As we were given the final vector to intercept the localizer, I realized that the radios were crackling and fading fast. We were still solid IMC in the bottom of the layer, with a fleeting glimpse of the ground from time to time, so I knew we wouldn’t have to descend too far down the glidescope to break out…if we even had a glidescope, that is. After a quick “great…this is just great” moment, my second thought was “turn off the landing light, that’s a hog”. Turning off the light extinguished the warning. With that done, I quickly radioed my situation to approach control, hoping that I would get some sort of early landing clearance or “rush processing” in case the radios went. This is when the controller asked if I needed any assistance. Short of a battery charger, I couldn’t think of anything so I politely declined. In retrospect, I should have asked for that early clearance - although I may not have gotten it, it never hurts to ask. As the localizer started to come alive, the low voltage light came back on. Shutting off the beacon and nav lights turned it back off. Turning down the localizer now, and waiting for the glidescope to come in so we can descend out of these clouds, and the low voltage light comes back on. The autopilot is one of the few remaining powered items on, so off it went, along with the nav/comm 2 radio. We intercepted the glidescope and started our descent. I should mention that as soon as I contacted tower they gave me the landing clearance I was hoping for, along with taxi instructions in the event that I lost comms. They were very accomodating, and I was very grateful. As predicted, we broke out about 1000′ above minimums, but it was so hazy below the clouds that I could barely make out the airport. In fact, the only thing I could really see was the coastline on the other side of the airport, and tracing it led my eyes to the runway. The low voltage light was on now, and with nothing else to turn off, I had to hope the comms would stick with me for the duration, which they did. We made a smooth landing and taxied into the ramp to find that all mechanics had left for the weekend. No matter: by now I had called my wife and told her I’d just meet her at the river when I could. I was determined to not become the next Get-There-Itis victim. If I had a choice I’d prefer to be an I Learned About Flying From That article and not an Aftermath column. At any rate, after about an hour on the ground the ceilings rose enough for me to contemplate a VFR trip home. It was about an hour into the wind, and I knew that the weather was better to the west, which a call back to my home FBO confirmed. I made an uneventful VFR trip home under increasingly scattered clouds, albeit with the low voltage light shining brightly all the way. By the time I got back, Comm 1 was, again, the only electronic device on in the aircraft, besides my handheld GPS, which was whining about a low battery as well.
To add insult to injury, the winds were 260 at 13 gusting to 19, which put them at 80 degrees to my planned landing runway. Hadn’t the flying gods had enough fun with me today? I fought the crosswind all the way through the pattern, sure that after all I had been through a ground loop would by my ultimate demise. As luck would have it, the winds died down precisely at the time I crossed the numbers, affording me the smoothest landing of the day. Thanks flying gods, I appreciate that.
Today’s mission was a relatively short Angel Flight, departing Richmond to Raleigh-Durham Int’l to pick up a passenger, transport her to Norfolk Int’l, and then make the return trip to Richmond. I had a pretty tight timetable, as once I got home we were off to our friends’ house at the river for some rest and relaxation for the remainder of the weekend. How many dangerous flying situations have started with a tight timetable? The day started with a low sitting off the coast, pulling moisture in from the Atlantic and spreading it over coastal and central Virginia in the form of low clouds and visibilities. The weather close to home was actually pretty good, and left me flying beneath a 7000′ overcast for the trip to RDU, with the occasional cloud allowing me to log all of .3 of actual. Off to my left the picture was a little different; thick gray clouds descended from the overcast above me to about 2-3000 feet below me. It was almost like flying below a shelf of terminal airspace, with the airspace being filled with rolling wet clouds. The sight left me hoping it would improve in the next couple of hours, which the forecast assured me it would. After a quick turn and a departure into clear blue - but windy on the backside of the front - skies at RDU, we pointed to the northeast for the trip to ORF. It was only an hour with a generous tailwind, and at first it looked like it would be clear sailing for the duration. About 50 miles out, we found ourselves in solid IMC and just starting to receive vectors to the ILS to runway 5. As thick and dark as the clouds were, it was the smoothest flying of the entire day, and quite peaceful even with streaks of rain streaming across the windshield. About 20 miles out, I caught the slightest flicker of red from somewhere on the panel; it was so quick that I wasn’t sure at first where it came from. A minute or two later, I found out as the low voltage warning light came on and stayed on. As we were given the final vector to intercept the localizer, I realized that the radios were crackling and fading fast. We were still solid IMC in the bottom of the layer, with a fleeting glimpse of the ground from time to time, so I knew we wouldn’t have to descend too far down the glidescope to break out…if we even had a glidescope, that is. After a quick “great…this is just great” moment, my second thought was “turn off the landing light, that’s a hog”. Turning off the light extinguished the warning. With that done, I quickly radioed my situation to approach control, hoping that I would get some sort of early landing clearance or “rush processing” in case the radios went. This is when the controller asked if I needed any assistance. Short of a battery charger, I couldn’t think of anything so I politely declined. In retrospect, I should have asked for that early clearance - although I may not have gotten it, it never hurts to ask. As the localizer started to come alive, the low voltage light came back on. Shutting off the beacon and nav lights turned it back off. Turning down the localizer now, and waiting for the glidescope to come in so we can descend out of these clouds, and the low voltage light comes back on. The autopilot is one of the few remaining powered items on, so off it went, along with the nav/comm 2 radio. We intercepted the glidescope and started our descent. I should mention that as soon as I contacted tower they gave me the landing clearance I was hoping for, along with taxi instructions in the event that I lost comms. They were very accomodating, and I was very grateful. As predicted, we broke out about 1000′ above minimums, but it was so hazy below the clouds that I could barely make out the airport. In fact, the only thing I could really see was the coastline on the other side of the airport, and tracing it led my eyes to the runway. The low voltage light was on now, and with nothing else to turn off, I had to hope the comms would stick with me for the duration, which they did. We made a smooth landing and taxied into the ramp to find that all mechanics had left for the weekend. No matter: by now I had called my wife and told her I’d just meet her at the river when I could. I was determined to not become the next Get-There-Itis victim. If I had a choice I’d prefer to be an I Learned About Flying From That article and not an Aftermath column. At any rate, after about an hour on the ground the ceilings rose enough for me to contemplate a VFR trip home. It was about an hour into the wind, and I knew that the weather was better to the west, which a call back to my home FBO confirmed. I made an uneventful VFR trip home under increasingly scattered clouds, albeit with the low voltage light shining brightly all the way. By the time I got back, Comm 1 was, again, the only electronic device on in the aircraft, besides my handheld GPS, which was whining about a low battery as well.
To add insult to injury, the winds were 260 at 13 gusting to 19, which put them at 80 degrees to my planned landing runway. Hadn’t the flying gods had enough fun with me today? I fought the crosswind all the way through the pattern, sure that after all I had been through a ground loop would by my ultimate demise. As luck would have it, the winds died down precisely at the time I crossed the numbers, affording me the smoothest landing of the day. Thanks flying gods, I appreciate that.
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