First Cross-Country Solo
So 3 days after my cross-country flight with John, I came back to the airport. We had discussed this on the phone, and I was rearing to go. I would make my first cross-country solo that day (4/14/2011), same route as we did together.
I got there around 9:30 only to learn that John was on a "gift certificate" flight and was going to be gone until 10AM. No problem; I'll just preflight the plane... except that they took it for the flight he was on.
*sigh*
OK. I knew I had stuff I had to complete. I took the release forms and solo planning forms and this and that and sat down to fill them. By the time I was done, John had just landed, and I went to wait for him in his office.
A few minutes later he got there. I was all nervous energy, but he was like "so, did you complete flight planning?". I proudly show him the forms. He repeats the question. I sit down and ask "OK, what am I missing?".
He laughs.
And starts asking me to do stuff.
So apparently, I never really understood what went into planning a flight... I got a crash course in the E6B, calling for weather, using a plotter, figuring out times and estimated fuel usage and calculating headings and correcting for wind and figuring out the TAFs along the way and... and... and...
... an hour later, I was done. I showed it all to John. He looks at me and say "so what about the rest?" I sat down heavily.
He laughs again. "You're good to go buddy. Give me your logbook, so I can endorse it. You sure you're ready to do this?"
I nodded, dumb-founded. He signs the forms and endorses my logbook. I take everything, go back to the office, check out the plane, and walk to the ramp. My brain is still not registering this. I preflight. I get inside. I finish my preflight checklist. I put the headset on. I get the ATIS report. I set the altimeter, I call ground and ask for taxi...
... and something in my brain snaps.
I'm doing this!
Understand something: my two solo flights prior to this one had been merely multiple touch&go's at the airport. Now I'm about to take the plane to two other airports, the second being over 100m away. All by myself.
I get to the run-up. I finish the checklist. I get clearance to take off. I take off. I head north. I call Travis. I get to Rio Vista. I call Travis to tell them I'm landing at Rio Vista.
Someone whispers on the radio "wrong frequency".
Seems like I was "talking" to Travis on the Rio Vista traffic frequency.
Oops.
Oh well. I did say "student pilot".
Rio Vista has a lot of traffic that day, or at least so it seems to me. Myself and three other pilots coordinate all our traffic, and I land to a full stop. Go around. Take off again. Get on Travis approach - and a new wrinkle comes up. They transfer me to Travis Arrival. I have never spoken to Travis Arrival. Why am I talking to Travis Arrival?
The C17 passing under me and the fighter jet taking off at right angles towards me sort of explains things. The C17 about to pass over me adds to my jitters. Wake turbulence from one of those might not be very fun. The guy at Travis Arrivals is very nice as he is warning me about all these things... I do a quick mental calculation and get back to him.
"Travis Arrivals, zero one whiskey, I'll be about 30 seconds out when they all get by."
I sound a lot more confident than I really feel.
I swear he chuckled.
I don't get lost over Vacaville this time. I head north over 505, and over Madison ask to cancel following. The guy at Travis sounds surprised. No wonder. He KNOWS I'm a rookie student. But I want to be a big boy. I'm Pilot in Command, so I get to make the choice. He lets me off.
In about a minute I realize that I am no longer on the radio with anyone. I'm all alone. There is no one to warn me about anything, no one to help me if I am about to run into another plane, no one to ask clarifications from. Nothing.
This was the first time I got a little scared in the entire experience. The sense of loneliness up there was eerie. I considered contacting Norcal approach, but decided against it. I will do this the way it was meant to be. I'm a big boy now.
The weather was calm and the sky was clear. I started taking in the scenery. It was beautiful. I had already trimmed the plane for straight-and-level, and therefore had very little to do other than scan the horizon. The next 20 minutes were one of the most stunning experiences I have ever had, cruising at 3,000ft, my hands crossed, my eyes slowly moving right to left and left to right, enjoying the sights.
Over Willows I contacted Chico, not because I had to but because I wanted human contact again. I started looking for Haigh. I couldn't find it. I started circling. Where IS that dang airport? then I remembered my flight with John. Damn! I made the same error John and I made three days earlier. That chart really IS confusing.
Reoriented, found Haigh, landed, got off, went to the bathroom, came back, took a picture for posterity and uploaded it to Facebook.
Got back in the air. My phone was out because I had taken that picture. At 3,000, I got a text. Surprised, I checked my phone. Excellent reception. I kept it on out of curiosity. I had excellent reception at 3,000 all the way back. Funny, that.
The rest of the flight was uneventful. Made it back to KCCR, did one touch&go, then came back to a full stop. 2.9 hours total, and an absolute blast. As I tied down the plane, I felt proud, of having achieved something really big. And also a strange sense of calmness, as if I had overcome a huge obstacle, and the confidence that I could do it again.
Next up - night flying. The checkride will come soon after that, I'm sure. But I'm not worried about it now. I know I can do it. I know I'm safe. I felt it this time. I wore the plane on this flight. I didn't have to think much about operating it - it all came naturally, especially on the leg back. What a feeling.
Man, what a feeling.
I got there around 9:30 only to learn that John was on a "gift certificate" flight and was going to be gone until 10AM. No problem; I'll just preflight the plane... except that they took it for the flight he was on.
*sigh*
OK. I knew I had stuff I had to complete. I took the release forms and solo planning forms and this and that and sat down to fill them. By the time I was done, John had just landed, and I went to wait for him in his office.
A few minutes later he got there. I was all nervous energy, but he was like "so, did you complete flight planning?". I proudly show him the forms. He repeats the question. I sit down and ask "OK, what am I missing?".
He laughs.
And starts asking me to do stuff.
So apparently, I never really understood what went into planning a flight... I got a crash course in the E6B, calling for weather, using a plotter, figuring out times and estimated fuel usage and calculating headings and correcting for wind and figuring out the TAFs along the way and... and... and...
... an hour later, I was done. I showed it all to John. He looks at me and say "so what about the rest?" I sat down heavily.
He laughs again. "You're good to go buddy. Give me your logbook, so I can endorse it. You sure you're ready to do this?"
I nodded, dumb-founded. He signs the forms and endorses my logbook. I take everything, go back to the office, check out the plane, and walk to the ramp. My brain is still not registering this. I preflight. I get inside. I finish my preflight checklist. I put the headset on. I get the ATIS report. I set the altimeter, I call ground and ask for taxi...
... and something in my brain snaps.
I'm doing this!
Understand something: my two solo flights prior to this one had been merely multiple touch&go's at the airport. Now I'm about to take the plane to two other airports, the second being over 100m away. All by myself.
I get to the run-up. I finish the checklist. I get clearance to take off. I take off. I head north. I call Travis. I get to Rio Vista. I call Travis to tell them I'm landing at Rio Vista.
Someone whispers on the radio "wrong frequency".
Seems like I was "talking" to Travis on the Rio Vista traffic frequency.
Oops.
Oh well. I did say "student pilot".
Rio Vista has a lot of traffic that day, or at least so it seems to me. Myself and three other pilots coordinate all our traffic, and I land to a full stop. Go around. Take off again. Get on Travis approach - and a new wrinkle comes up. They transfer me to Travis Arrival. I have never spoken to Travis Arrival. Why am I talking to Travis Arrival?
The C17 passing under me and the fighter jet taking off at right angles towards me sort of explains things. The C17 about to pass over me adds to my jitters. Wake turbulence from one of those might not be very fun. The guy at Travis Arrivals is very nice as he is warning me about all these things... I do a quick mental calculation and get back to him.
"Travis Arrivals, zero one whiskey, I'll be about 30 seconds out when they all get by."
I sound a lot more confident than I really feel.
I swear he chuckled.
I don't get lost over Vacaville this time. I head north over 505, and over Madison ask to cancel following. The guy at Travis sounds surprised. No wonder. He KNOWS I'm a rookie student. But I want to be a big boy. I'm Pilot in Command, so I get to make the choice. He lets me off.
In about a minute I realize that I am no longer on the radio with anyone. I'm all alone. There is no one to warn me about anything, no one to help me if I am about to run into another plane, no one to ask clarifications from. Nothing.
This was the first time I got a little scared in the entire experience. The sense of loneliness up there was eerie. I considered contacting Norcal approach, but decided against it. I will do this the way it was meant to be. I'm a big boy now.
The weather was calm and the sky was clear. I started taking in the scenery. It was beautiful. I had already trimmed the plane for straight-and-level, and therefore had very little to do other than scan the horizon. The next 20 minutes were one of the most stunning experiences I have ever had, cruising at 3,000ft, my hands crossed, my eyes slowly moving right to left and left to right, enjoying the sights.
Over Willows I contacted Chico, not because I had to but because I wanted human contact again. I started looking for Haigh. I couldn't find it. I started circling. Where IS that dang airport? then I remembered my flight with John. Damn! I made the same error John and I made three days earlier. That chart really IS confusing.
Reoriented, found Haigh, landed, got off, went to the bathroom, came back, took a picture for posterity and uploaded it to Facebook.
Got back in the air. My phone was out because I had taken that picture. At 3,000, I got a text. Surprised, I checked my phone. Excellent reception. I kept it on out of curiosity. I had excellent reception at 3,000 all the way back. Funny, that.
The rest of the flight was uneventful. Made it back to KCCR, did one touch&go, then came back to a full stop. 2.9 hours total, and an absolute blast. As I tied down the plane, I felt proud, of having achieved something really big. And also a strange sense of calmness, as if I had overcome a huge obstacle, and the confidence that I could do it again.
Next up - night flying. The checkride will come soon after that, I'm sure. But I'm not worried about it now. I know I can do it. I know I'm safe. I felt it this time. I wore the plane on this flight. I didn't have to think much about operating it - it all came naturally, especially on the leg back. What a feeling.
Man, what a feeling.
posted by Blinkered at 9:25 PM
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