Flight Journal: flight 23-first solo!! part 2
Posted: Fri Feb 09, 2007 8:38 am I decide rather hastily to extend my crosswind, circle to the left, then set up on a left base for 19, once I confirm all is clear. I haven't forgotten about the other two airplanes, and suddenly I feel not quite so worthy. I am a fledgeling... I should stay out of the way. It seems like a good plan.
I will find out that this is not the correct procedure.
I see the Cherokee turn outside off the downwind about midfield, coming about onto a left downwind for 19. Logical. The Skyhawk follows suit, and now I am well north of the airport, wandering in a big circle, all alone. The ridge seems to loom close as I descend on base... I'm a little too far out, but I've timed it well: I'm now about the same distance behind the 172 as it is behind the Cherokee.
I'm a little concerned about the length of my base leg, but the closer I get to the runway, the better my approach looks.
A glance at the sock shows the wind perfectly aligned with 19, at about 5 knots. Now I'm floating towards the numbers... flaps 30... still a little hot, but slowing up predictably and well. I am in control.
I flash the landing light, switching it off as I come over the fence, engine idling.
The multiple landings of the first half of the lesson are paying off: I've got my eyes on the far end of the runway... small corrections... easy.... easy, now... I flare right over the numbers and wait.
The nose seems to sag; I pull back, as little as I can manage...whoops.
475 floats briefly, then plops down from about two feet... then wanders a bit as the rollout begins.I reign her in, stop normally, and exit the runway.
Flaps up; carb heat off...
I finally exhale. Not perfect, but... I DID IT!!!
The next two circuits are about the same, but I keep the Cessna from floating so much.
But not enough, to my consternation- I swear I was doing better earlier... I decide to blame it on the lighter weight. I may be justified, there- J.is not a big man, but he's got to weigh over 150 pounds. That's significant in a plane this size.
But I do realize that I am not trimming aggressively... got to stop forcing the plane so much. It will fly by the numbers every time, if it's trimmed right- I know that well.
Well, eventually it is time to taxi back to the ramp. As I approach the parking space I see a woman and a little girl leaning on the rail fence by the benches outside the office. The little girl waves at me as I bring 475 closer- it seems I am now The Nice Man Driving the Airplane. She is spellbound, eyes wide. I can't imagine a more charming welcome home from my little gambit with Death, and I am moved. Better than getting a medal.
I wave back, then smartly swing the plane around with a brief blast of power.
After shutdown, with the gyros winding down and the engine ticking, I realize I'm grinning again. Another instructor approaches to help me push 475 back. Then J. is there, shaking my hand, very happy and relieved, as any instructor would be at such a moment. The other instructor turns to me, and asks me something. It takes a second for the words to register.
"How do you feel?"
"Pretty damn good," I tell him.
I float back to the office. The little girl is still checking me out. A little glory... feels nice.
The glow is still there as I inscribe my first 0.6 hours of solo time in my logbook. J. signs off my entry, tells me I did very well, then says something very interesting:
"Well, the easy part is over now."
We discuss the next lesson; I say goodbye.
On my way to my car, I see 453 taxi up to the hangar. A., the school's owner, climbs out of the back seat and greets me, so we head back inside to discuss laying the carpet in the new classroom. He also congratulates me, and points out that I am the first student in his school to solo at Lincoln Park. Another little feather in my cap...
All in all, a very productive day. It would have been nice to solo sooner, and those three landings were not my best ever, which is a bit disappointing. But I feel good about my overall performance. I stayed ahead mentally, used pitch and power correctly and confidently, and spoke and listened properly on the radio.
Next: flight 24
I will find out that this is not the correct procedure.
I see the Cherokee turn outside off the downwind about midfield, coming about onto a left downwind for 19. Logical. The Skyhawk follows suit, and now I am well north of the airport, wandering in a big circle, all alone. The ridge seems to loom close as I descend on base... I'm a little too far out, but I've timed it well: I'm now about the same distance behind the 172 as it is behind the Cherokee.
I'm a little concerned about the length of my base leg, but the closer I get to the runway, the better my approach looks.
A glance at the sock shows the wind perfectly aligned with 19, at about 5 knots. Now I'm floating towards the numbers... flaps 30... still a little hot, but slowing up predictably and well. I am in control.
I flash the landing light, switching it off as I come over the fence, engine idling.
The multiple landings of the first half of the lesson are paying off: I've got my eyes on the far end of the runway... small corrections... easy.... easy, now... I flare right over the numbers and wait.
The nose seems to sag; I pull back, as little as I can manage...whoops.
475 floats briefly, then plops down from about two feet... then wanders a bit as the rollout begins.I reign her in, stop normally, and exit the runway.
Flaps up; carb heat off...
I finally exhale. Not perfect, but... I DID IT!!!
The next two circuits are about the same, but I keep the Cessna from floating so much.
But not enough, to my consternation- I swear I was doing better earlier... I decide to blame it on the lighter weight. I may be justified, there- J.is not a big man, but he's got to weigh over 150 pounds. That's significant in a plane this size.
But I do realize that I am not trimming aggressively... got to stop forcing the plane so much. It will fly by the numbers every time, if it's trimmed right- I know that well.
Well, eventually it is time to taxi back to the ramp. As I approach the parking space I see a woman and a little girl leaning on the rail fence by the benches outside the office. The little girl waves at me as I bring 475 closer- it seems I am now The Nice Man Driving the Airplane. She is spellbound, eyes wide. I can't imagine a more charming welcome home from my little gambit with Death, and I am moved. Better than getting a medal.
I wave back, then smartly swing the plane around with a brief blast of power.
After shutdown, with the gyros winding down and the engine ticking, I realize I'm grinning again. Another instructor approaches to help me push 475 back. Then J. is there, shaking my hand, very happy and relieved, as any instructor would be at such a moment. The other instructor turns to me, and asks me something. It takes a second for the words to register.
"How do you feel?"
"Pretty damn good," I tell him.
I float back to the office. The little girl is still checking me out. A little glory... feels nice.
The glow is still there as I inscribe my first 0.6 hours of solo time in my logbook. J. signs off my entry, tells me I did very well, then says something very interesting:
"Well, the easy part is over now."
We discuss the next lesson; I say goodbye.
On my way to my car, I see 453 taxi up to the hangar. A., the school's owner, climbs out of the back seat and greets me, so we head back inside to discuss laying the carpet in the new classroom. He also congratulates me, and points out that I am the first student in his school to solo at Lincoln Park. Another little feather in my cap...
All in all, a very productive day. It would have been nice to solo sooner, and those three landings were not my best ever, which is a bit disappointing. But I feel good about my overall performance. I stayed ahead mentally, used pitch and power correctly and confidently, and spoke and listened properly on the radio.
Next: flight 24
