9DS Down for Maintenance

No flying for me this weekend. 9DS is down for an inspection and needed maintenance. You might think that I’d be going out of my mind being so close to finishing my Private Pilot certification and not flying three weekends in a row, but my college course this this quarter is very brutal and I’ve been relieved every weekend I learn I’m not going up.

I’m not going to be certified in time for Sporty’s Annual Fly-In, so I’m not pushing for that anymore. My next “It’d be great to fly” event is the end of June for the annual fishing trip with my father, uncle, and brother. You may recall that it was during the fishing trip last year that I resolved to become a pilot—it’s the anniversary of starting down this road. I’d really like to be wrapped up before the date rolls around again.

This is a problem for general aviation: it shouldn’t take a year to get a certification if the student really wants to become a pilot and tries to fly multiple times each week. Sure, the weather played its part in delaying the completion of my training, but most of it is just the requirements of the training. When someone asks me about becoming a pilot, I gloss over the fact that it has taken me a year—not because I’m embarrassed by it, but because it will scare off the potential new aviator. It’s not that the people I speak with are afraid of the hard work that it takes to be a pilot, but if I tell them “it will take you a year and $10,000”, I don’t blame them for finding other ways that money and time investment might be spent.

That’s where the Sports Pilot certification comes in. “Give me two weeks and I’ll make you a pilot.” I like the idea of the Sport Pilot Certificate, and I think I’ll recommend it to people who want to become pilots but may hesitate at the cost or, more significantly, the time investment. Become a pilot, get flying in your blood, appreciate the benefits for a while, then transition to a Private Pilot Certificate when it makes sense for them.

Just my thoughts. I’d love to hear yours, because my mind isn’t set on the matter and I’m open to persuasion.

Lesson #39: Another Solo XC

On Sunday, April 9th, I did another solo XC—this time to Pontiac, IL (PNT). This flight was rather boring. When I got to PNT, I was lined up for a long final on 24 and the winds agreed, so I took that entrance to the pattern. I was vigilant to announce my position and intentions from about 8 nm out and repeat them every couple of miles so anyone else approaching the field would know what I doing. There was only one other plane at the field, and it was departing when I first announced myself, so mostly I was just talking to the empty air.

I like to fly high—I flew at 8,500 ft to Pontiac. From that altitude, the factories and smoke stacks that had been so prominent at 4,500 ft on my earlier trip weren’t distinguishable at all. Which factory? Tower? I don’t see a tower! In the future, I will stick to using interstate highways and population centers as landmarks when flying at higher altitudes.

However, not seeing a tower landmark when I expected led me to perform a 360-degree turn to figure out what was going on. I apparently wasn’t 100% coordinated during the long turn because when I pulled wings-level back on course the low fuel-flow enunciator chirped at me. I glanced at the engine instrument panel and saw that my fuel flow was at 2.6 gallon/hour! I thought about engaging the fuel pump and switching tanks, but since I thought I knew the problem, I wanted to give it a moment to work itself out. This might seem a poor decision, but I had a lot of altitude to burn, if needed, and I wanted to know if there was a real problem with that fuel tank or with the fuel system as a whole, and switching tanks at that moment wouldn’t have provided me that insight. I was actually pleasantly surprised with myself to have thought through the situation so thoroughly in the span of second and handle the unexpected problem—a potential emergency for a solo student pilot—so calmly. I’m not patting myself on the back; rather I’m encouraged to know that I don’t go to pieces when something goes astray when I’m alone in the cockpit.

Now you’re all caught up with my recent flying.

Lesson #38: First Solo XC

My second flight lesson on Saturday, April 8th, was a solo cross-country flight to Illinois Valley Regional Airport (VYS). The flight went very smoothly and I hit my checkpoint times within 20 seconds each way. I played with the Garmin 530 and 430 both ways, but did not navigate by it. I concentrated on maintaining my heading and altitude within practical test standards and was disturbed that I couldn’t seem to hold heading without giving it a lot of attention. On my flight back, I was further disturbed twice when I would notice a plane relatively close to me on a different altitude—why hadn’t I noticed them sooner?

When I returned to Lansing (IGQ), it was night. I was definitely planning on using the moving map GPSs to find the field, but as I approached the Chicago Heights VOR (CGT), I could clearly see Lansing’s runways illuminated so I turned toward the field, clicked the mic to keep the lights on, and lined up for an entrance to the 45 to 27. Landing on 27 would give me a couple knots of a tailwind on final, but I was lined up for it and there was nobody else around. It all turned out peachy—one of my best landings ever.

My most significant take-away from the experience, though, was that solo XC flying is boring! That might be due to the unending flatness of the Midwest, though.

Lesson #37

I had two lessons on Saturday, April 8th. The first one was more instrument training. Not very exciting. When it was all over, I was 0.3 hours short of my 3.0 requirement. We’ll pick that up during the check-ride training.

Lesson #36

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!

Ground Lesson #7

On March 31st, the weather wasn’t cooperating and I had a pre-checkride ground school lesson. Alex quizzed me all over the place, and knew almost all of it. Then Alex pulled out 9DS’s maintenance log book and we walked through that so that I would be familiar with it when the FAA examiner asked about it. The whole lesson was about 2 hours and very grueling, but satisfying.

No Flying This Weekend

I took this weekend off from flying. I still owe you several log entries. I’ve done more simulated instrument training and a couple of “short” cross countries that are not yet recorded. All I have left is my long cross-country, which has to be over 4 hours to cover my remaining solo time requirements, my three hours of pre-FAA-checkride time, a simulated check-ride, and (if the simulated check-ride goes well), my FAA check-ride. The problem is that my bank account will hit empty before I’m done with all of that. I don’t know what I’ll about that, yet.

While I’m fretting about how to pay for the rest of my training, one of the other students just purchased a $400,000 amphibious plane. It’s high-performance and complex, too. Very nice, with all-new avionics and cabin interior. Lucky guy.

Lesson #35

I’m way behind my blogging. Lesson #35 was on Monday, March 20th. It was a night cross-country from Gary (GYY) to Rockford (RFD). Rockford’s airport is interested in that it is surrounded by a TRSA. Alex asked what I knew about TRSAs and I gave him the rundown of what I knew. You can request flight following through a TRSA and if you’re traveling to or from the airport at the TRSA’s center, it is substantially similar to flying into Class C airspace—except that TRSAs are entirely voluntary, so I never actually need to communicate with them. Alex told me that while I am technically correct about the voluntary nature of using TRSAs, in reality “they” really prefer it when you use the service so “they” know what you are doing and can vector traffic appropriately. Good to know.

Based on the positive reviews of my passenger on the previous cross-country the day before, I suggested to my wife that she join me on this flight as it would be her last opportunity to fly with me in the presence of an instructor. Said differently, she could use it as a confidence-booster before flying alone with me after I get my PPL. She agreed. Unfortunately, the winds were gusty up to 3,200 MSL, so yet again my wife got an overly-bumpy flight experience. Once I was out from under Bravo’s airspace, I quickly climbed to 4,500 MSL and the ride smoothed out.

When planning for the cross-country, I had made it a point to pick landmarks that would lighted at night. In particular, I chose towns whenever possible. Also knowing that night flying by reference to landmarks is inherently hard, I chose to fly to the Joliet VOR and off of that toward Rockford, noting the radials both ways. Alex phoo-phoo’d the radio navigation—not because it was a bad idea, but because I’m supposed to be learning how hard it is to fly at night by reference to landmarks, so radio navigation is cheating. I didn’t change my flight plan; I just chose to not dial in the VOR on the way to Rockford. This left me a bit worried, though. There are two Class D airspaces along the route (DPA and ARR) and I was counting on VOR navigation to keep me clear of them. Actually, I only noticed one of the Class D airports (DPA) when I planned the trip—Alex had to point out the other one (ARR) when I started venture too close to it. Slipping through them was tricky given that I didn’t have any references in the area other than the airports themselves. Alex had to point out the airports on the ground, because I could not make them out on my own.

Once clear of them, I headed to Rockford, spoke with TRSA, spoke with tower, did a stop-and-go on the long runway, and headed home to Midway. Alex let me play with the navcoms for the trip home, and setup some radials for me to intercept at various points. For example, “Intercept the 270 radial of Joliet at a 30 degree angle” and “fly me to the intersection of radial 80 from Joliet and radial 300 from Chicago Heights”. All of this I handled easily—radio navigation is really a fun game for me.

Landing at Midway was tricky. The gusts were bad. I was cleared for 4R, one of the 150’ wide runways and I still would have botched it. I wasn’t getting the rudder and ailerons in right and I got pushed way to the left—almost off the runway—when I was only 20 feet or so above the ground. At just that moment, I knew what I was doing wrong, but the situation seemed unsalvagable. Alex grabbed the controls and landed us. I know what I need to do for next time, but what really bothered me about the incident was that I never thought to go around. The situation clearly slipped from my control and I needed to abort, but the thought didn’t occur to me—I was too fixated on figuring out how to land. I need to add a “think go-around” step to my GUMPS check on final to remind myself that I can abort at any time.

My biggest take-away was that I’ll never fly by night without GPS and/or dual VORs for triangulation. Knowing what I know now, I would have planned to fly by reference to interstate highways the whole way. Night flying is best done IFR: I Follow Roads.

Would I Pick Midway Again? [Updated]

Dave Stros asked:

I live in Chicago, and I’m trying to understand the pro’s and con’s of flight instruction out of Midway. Given the hassles, if you had to do it again, would it make more sense to drive to PWK or DPA instead of dealing with MDW? Thanks for your insight!

Instead of leaving an answer buried in a comment thread, I’m going to address it in a full post. It’s something to which I’ve given some thought as I look ahead to getting an instrument rating. Knowing what I know now, I would still train for my private pilot’s license out of Midway. The only change would be to get trained in the DA20 instead of the DA40 due to the expense.

I chose Midway for a couple of reasons, and those reasons still hold.

1. Foremost is convenience. It is very easy for me to get from work to MDW and from my home to MDW by car and by public transit. Thus, I can schedule time with more freedom than I could at the airports that are farther out. In fact, the chief flight instructor at Windy City Flyers out of PWK told me that I should fly at MDW if it meant I’d fly more frequently. Particularly at the beginning of the training, frequency is everything. Obviously, if your situation is different such that DPA or PWK is easier to access, those airports may make more sense in your case.
2. As an extension of convenience, I expect to do most of my flying out of Midway once I get my private pilot’s license. It’s well situated to be a meet-up point with my wife after work on Fridays when we take-off for a weekend trip. Fighting rush hour traffic out of the city to DPA or PWK would be counter-productive. For the amount of time we would be stuck in traffic to get to those airports, we will be well on our way leaving from Midway. It’s only 35 minutes for me from the city on the Orange Line and my wife has driven from her office to the flight school in 45 minutes on surface roads.
3. Midway is a big airport. Huge. If it weren’t so close to O’Hare, Midway would be a Class B airport (based on the quantity and type of traffic). Having learned at Midway, I’m not afraid of any other airport. I’m currently planning my long, solo cross-country trip and I’m picking Class C airports without hesitation. I look at Class C airports like Champaign-Urbana and Peoria and think “awwww, what cute little airports”. Okay, I’m not really that snotty about it, but you get the idea.
4. This is a stupid reason, but it was a factor for me: I fell in love with an airplane (the DA40, obviously) and Midway Aviators has a couple and would let me train in them.

Knowing what I know now, the most important nugget of wisdom I can give to people interested in flying is to find an instructor that is a good match for you. I’ve told this to my co-workers when they’ve asked me about flight lessons. You will read this over and over in the literature, from AOPA’s Flight Training magazine to various blogs by students and instructors alike. I can’t emphasize it enough. Where you get your training is very much a secondary consideration to finding a flight instructor who is a good match for you. I recommend flying with a couple of different instructors—even once you’ve found one that you like. Know that you have options. I didn’t do this, and I should have. (That’s not a judgement against Bill—Bill trained me very well and tried various training techniques to discover the ones that worked best with me.) Finding the right instructor will save you money—potentially a lot of money—because you will learn things faster and they will stay with you better. You want your instructor’s words to stay with you as best possible because it’s going to be his or her training on which you rely as a low-hour pilot facing an emergency in the cockpit.

When I was looking at flight schools, some schools and some literature suggested that smaller airports are better for students. They give lots of reasons. Big airports are big, so you’ll spend more time taxi-ing than at a small airport. Big airports are busy so you’ll spend more time on the ground waiting your turn to take-off. Big airports treat small planes as second-class citizens. Big airplanes are under big airspace, so you’ll need to fly further to get to a training area, costing you time (and, hence, money). Of these criticisms, only the last one is really true for Midway.

• Midway is a big airport, so when the winds are out of the south, I spend more time taxing over the other end of the field than I might at a smaller airport. The flip side is that I’m good at taxi-ing now—and I’m comfortable with the complicated taxiway systems of large airports. I’m also comfortable speaking with ground control. “Four Left by Foxtrot-Kilo-Yankee hold short of Four Right.” No problem. “Cross Three One Center without delay; traffic on four mile final.” No worries. Most of the time, the wind is from the north so I use 31L—which is so ridiculously close to GA parking that ground control just says “taxi to three one left” and ignores the taxiway instructions. The other common runway is 4L, which isn’t far and affords a wonderful view of downtown.
• Of my 40+ lessons so far (yeah, yeah, I’m a little behind on my blogging), there have only been four occasions on which I’ve spent more than a couple minutes waiting my turn for departure. Midway is so big that it has runways just for small airplanes: 4L-22R and 13R-31L. This is different than many Class D airports like Gary, DuPage, Aurora, and Palwaukee, which use the same runways for jets and small planes. (Business jets do use 4L-22R and 13R-31L, but I’ve only seen it a couple of times.) Thus, I’ve come to expect getting off the ground pretty quickly.
• I’ve never felt like a second-class citizen at Midway. The Southwest pilots in the 737s smile and wave as they taxi by—which is totally cool of them. Concerning the controllers, as a rule, they have been the nicest I’ve spoken to so far. (The controllers at Rockford were also very nice during my night cross country, but the controllers at Gary always seem cold and aloof.) Midway ground control has yelled at me once, but that day they were yelling at Southwest pilots as well so I wasn’t getting poor treatment just because I was a student and/or in a small airplane. The incident was very out of character for Midway controllers and only happened once. When I leave Midway airspace, the controllers always wish me a good day or a good flight lesson; when I return, they usually greet me with a “welcome back”. I really get the sense that they are real people happy to work with everyone. After all this time flying to and from Midway, it really feels like home to me and the controllers significantly contribute to that environment.
• I do have to fly further from the air field than I would at other airports. It’s about 15 minutes to Lansing and Gary, where Midway Aviators does most of its instruction. That’s a half hour you’re paying for, leaving and returning, which seems like wasted time to read about it in the literature. Bill was good about using that time for instruction at the beginning of my training, both ways, so it didn’t represent much “lost” time. Once I was able to handle flying the plane and handling the communications myself during those 15 minutes, the time did lose some value for instruction. I’ll note, though, that I was comfortable with flying the plane and handling the communications with Midway (which is a trick, since there is a lot of chatter and you need to remain vigilant for your callsign while listening to your instructor and flying the plane) within my first 15 hours of instruction. There are long-time pilots who can’t handle that; I know since I hear them blow their instructions every once in a while and get reprimanded for their inattention. Anyway, this “lost time” goes away partially when you get to cross-countries because the return trip is direct home to Midway. And, honestly, I’ve never felt that the time to and from Midway was wasted. Earlier in my training, it was explicit instruction on radio communications within controlled airspace. After that, it was practice with radio communications and learning to form a mental picture of the activity around the airport based on the instructions. Since then, it has remained valuable to hear the professional airline pilots interact with the controllers. And most importantly, after bad lessons I really appreciated the time to collect myself and enjoy flying before getting back to the flight school—it’s my “Walden Pond time”.

You asked about the hassles I’ve had. To which hassles you are referring? There certainly have been hassles, but I’d like to provide specific answers to your question about them. Please drop me another comment and let me know.

[Updated: I’ve thought of one more thing to add. My discussion has been mostly about Midway as an airport and not covered Midway Aviators as a flight school. Midway Aviators has a character to it that appeals to me. The owners are relatively young (mid- and late-thirties, I’d guess) and seem to have started the school as a way to afford flying, which is clearly a passion for them. As such, they and the other instructors are permanent fixtures at the school, rather than the transient crowd that you find at many schools. In fact, the only instructor I know at the school who is planning to become an airline pilot is Bill. The environment at the school is comfortable. I feel I can drop by any time and do some hanger flying, chat with the instructors, other students, and other pilots. I’ve hung out at the school on weekends and been fed pizza, Portillo’s or whatever else the group was having for lunch those days—and they refused my contributions for my portion of the food. It’s a good group that likes to hang out, have fun, and swap stories.]