On Saturday, April 1st, I endured about 1.5 hours of simulated instrument training. I flew from Midway (MDW) to Valpo (VPZ) and over to another airport in Illinois all on instruments. I shot the ILS at VPZ for fun—my first ever (even in a simulator)—and was not lined up too poorly at decision altitude when Alex told me to take off the hood. However, while flying the ILS, I got full vertical deflection of the needle (I was too high), so as an actual instrument approach it was horrible—but as a “good to know if your life depends on it” sort of thing, I’d call it a success.
After a total of 1.9 hours of simulated instrument training, I have to say it’s not easy! I understand that when the FAA mandated 3 hours of simulated instrument training for private pilots, there was a lot of concern that students might get overly confident about their abilities and not take IMC seriously. For me, the impression was just the opposite: instrument flying is hard—even though I seem to do it pretty well—and if I get into IMC, I need to get out as quickly as possible!
Finally, since it was night when we finished with the instrument training, we finished off my night take-offs and landings at Lansing. I had six or seven of each to be completed. While flying around the pattern, I was working in the additional step of clicking the microphone seven times to keep the lights on because they were shutting off about mid-field every one and half times around the pattern, since we were going full-stop, taxi-back.
After one or two of them, Alex asked “Have you practiced engine-out landings in the pattern?” Yup! So, of course, he pulled the throttle out. I was between mid-field and the numbers. I pitched for best glide, simulated the workflow (alternate air, fuel pump, switch tanks, play with mixture, prop, and throttle), and made my radio call (“Lansing Traffic, Diamond Star 269DS simulating engine out, I am abbreviating my pattern, turning base, Lansing Traffic”.) Of course, I’d learned this lesson before: the Diamond Star (and DA20, too, apparently) is so clean, there is no rush to turn toward the runway. In fact, turning toward the runway so quickly will lead to overshooting the runway unless it’s really long. And on this engine out simulation, that’s what happened: I would have touched down about 300 feet from the runway end and overrun it. When I was about 50 feet off the ground, I put back in the power and went around.
On the next three landings, Alex pulled the power out before I was abeam the numbers and I continued through the pattern normally. This worked out just perfectly with only one notch of flaps. When I got to short final and was lined up nicely with the runway, Alex asked why I wasn’t putting another notch of flaps. “Why would I? The runway is made, I have a nice descent rate, and I’ll be touching down on the numbers. In a emergency like an engine-out, I’m not going to rock the boat when everything is going so well as-is.” That seemed to satisfy Alex, and he didn’t ask about it again.
On my third simulated engine-out landing, I was on short final, doing well, when the runway lights began to dim! Ack! I quickly keyed the mic so the lights would stay on, and after a looooooooong moment, the lights stopped dimming and returned to full power. Whew! It happened so quickly that Alex didn’t even notice the event—the first he became aware of it was while I was taxing back and said “That would have been a very interesting night landing if I hadn’t noticed the lights going out on short final.”
Flying is so much fun!
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