2008-05-13
1500 Zulu
KSBP
“Stop the presses,” Flight Examiner, Glenn Barnum announced, “Adele Schneidereit is now a licensed pilot.”
It had been a year since I had started training for my Private Pilot’s License Single Engine Land (PPSEL). At times even I had doubts as to whether or not I could finish. Battling peoples “concerns”, finding a neurologist to sign me off for my medical, mounting financial constraints, time issues, and having to switch flight schools and demonstrate all forty fundamentals of flight to my new instructor were the source of my worries.
On this day, Glenn Barnum, FAA Flight Examiner sat across the table from me armed with a detailed list of prioritized questions for the oral exam: basic rules, VFR weather and equipment minimums, airspace and air traffic controllers, airplane systems, medical awareness for flight, etc… At logical breaking points, Mr. Barnum would elaborate on anecdotes of a rich life as a Flight Examiner, including photos and stories of him administrating this very test to fellow aviatrix, Angelina Jolie. He had tested Angelina at Paso Robles Airport, thirty miles north of where I sat this very moment carefully considering and reciting answers to the questions he posed.
I finished his list on the electrical system of the airplane, missing a question on the alternator.
Glenn was quiet. Then he abruptly packed his papers and book containing his Course of Action in his briefcase, grabbed his travel mug, and stood up.
Did I fail? Or pass? Is he angry? I looked at Glenn. He stood holding his many belongings in silence. I felt awkward. “Did I pass?”
“You passed the oral,” he said matter-of-factly. That’s why we’re going on to the next step.”
We walked through the maintenance shop and out onto the tarmac. Usually the sea breeze kicks up here at San Luis Obispo almost everyday in the afternoon, but today my hair wasn’t even being blown around. We reached the little Cessna which had been my darling for training, and I preflighted it. Carefully I looked at the checklist in between steps because I knew Glenn had been a stickler about checklists. We jumped in and I finished the in-cabin section. I tuned the radio to pick up the weather.
As soon as Glenn heard it he looked at me wide-eyed, “What do you think?”
My heart nose-dived to my stomach: all my preparation; my hard work. I don’t want to wait. “I’d have to check the crosswind component,” I said calmly. I reached behind me and fished out the Pilot’s Operating Handbook. Finding the page with the crosswind graph, I drew a line with my finger from the arc to the column. “The crosswind component is 15. That’s okay.”
“But the wind is variable,” Glenn protested, eyes beaming. He closed his lips, “It’s your decision.”
I had told myself I wouldn’t push the weather being the fair-weather pilot that I am, or at least hope to be.
I reached over and flipped off the avionics, mixture, master, and mags. “We’ll go as soon as you have an opening?”
As soon as everything was turned off, Glenn seemed to have a change of heart, “Wait a minute. Let me get a PIREP (pilot’s report).” He hopped out. I could see him talking to Clint, a flight instructor who had just taxied in from landing. Glenn walked back to the Cessna where I waited, “He said that the winds are all over the place. We’ll go another day…”
2008-05-13
1500 Zulu
KSBY
…Back in the cockpit with Glenn sitting beside me. The course that Glenn had requested to El Monte, CA had been drawn on the chart and fastened on the clipboard between Glenn and me, but I knew he would have me deviate, a requirement for the exam. I didn’t know to where.
The take-off he requested was one that Phillip and I had practiced many times, a soft-field take-off. The difficulty had been psychological. It requires acceleration in ground effect which translates into pushing down the nose of the airplane 2 feet above the runway. When doing a soft-field take-off my mind cautions against crashing into the runway. After all having a healthy respect for the runway is usually a good thing. In this case it becomes a mental tug-o’-war for me. Would the stall horns go off again on take-off? Watching in my peripheral vision for the runway to look lower (take-off), I held my breath and pushed the yoke down. We flew 2 feet off the runway for awhile, flying in ground effect, then I pitched for best-angle-over-an-obstacle, in this plane 74 knots until Glenn announced we had cleared our obstacle.
We departed downwind and flew out on the designated radial, and I checked the time to coordinate the distance with our airspeed.
Glenn had been quiet since take-off. It seemed that he likes to let the potential pilots concentrate. About 12 minutes out, he said, “Okay, deviate to Santa Ynez.”
Grabbing the chart, I checked for ground references that I could find on the chart. We flew beside the tip of a wash that showed brown on the chart. I thought Santa Ynez was the indicated runway to the South West of the wash. But my glasses were on the dash not my head. “I can use all resources available to me?”
“Yeah.” He nodded his head.
I was excited to do this. Squinting, I checked the airport indicator on the chart then tuned it into the GPS. What a trick piece of technology, the GPS.
“I was waiting for that,” Glenn smiled.
The machine drew a line to Santa Ynez airport, “IZA”.
“It’s that way.” I pointed to the landing strip to the South West of us.
With the diversion out of the way, it was time for maneuvers. Phillip and I had practiced and practiced 45 degree turns, but now the pressure was on.
Starting from maneuvering speed, 105 knots, I set the indicator bug to the heading I wanted to roll out on and picked a reference outside, in this case a mountain at the same heading. The plane dipped to the right. When the turn coordinator went through 30 degrees, I slid the throttle in to increase another 1500 RPM. Two swipes of the trim is all it took to keep the nose level. With G’s like this who needs an amusement park? Both turns were executed within Pilot’s Test Standards (PTS).
All this wasn’t enough to do to my stomach. Glenn asked me to demonstrate both a power on and a power off stalls. Stalls often give student pilots serious jitters. Power off stalls simulate a stall on final approach and power on stalls simulate a stall on take-off. Not knowing how to correct for these kill unsuspecting pilots. They’re both very important to learn.
Demonstrating the power off, the throttle is pulled back to slow down the airplane and the flaps are extended to put the plane into landing configuration. The plane is steered with the feet to keep at original heading, altitude is maintained as well. The pilot pretends to “stretch” her glide, pulling the yoke back until the stall horn blares and the plane buffets. Pushing down on the yoke, pushing right rudder, and full throttle recovers the craft to straight and level flight, demonstrating a full recovery or go-around rather than crashing into the runway. Power on stalls are demonstrating an unintended stall on take-off, also one of the leading causes of death among pilot’s. This stall is easier. The plane is slowed, then the power is put in again. The nose is pitched to high, again blaring the stall horn. The plane stalls, but recovery is easy. The pilot merely has to push down on the yoke and voilá, recovery!
It was time for unusual attitudes, but this doesn’t describe the pilot’s behavior. An “unusual attitude” means that the plane is tipped to the side or pointed up or down to the point that not correcting it can result in a crash. Not knowing how to recover from unusual attitudes is precisely what killed John F. Kennedy, Jr.
Glenn asked me to wear the “hood”, shut my eyes, and put my head in my lap. The idea was to recover using only the instruments, not looking outside. Once again I felt those G’s grabbing hold of the pit of my stomach. I paid attention to winding up of the engine accelerating, then the plane tipping to one side, then the airplane seemed to slow down which would indicate the plane was pitched upward and the engine sounded if it were dying. Glenn was really good at not letting the pilot know which way he was going to mess up the airplane. I had no idea which way I was going to have to recover.
“Okay. Recover.” Glenn announced. “Don’t look outside.”
The attitude indicator indicated a dive and the turn coordinator indicated a right turn. Reducing power, pulling back on the yoke, then using left rudder and left aileron together brought the C172 back to straight-and-level flight. Adding a little power brought us back to our previous configuration. The ol’ World War 2 song comes to mind, “Straighten Up and Fly Right”, that my Grandmother “Goma” used to sing to me, sometimes still does.
We repeated the process recovering from an upward pitch and the opposite wing dipped. I can understand how someone might become dizzy and disoriented during this test, even feel a little sick.
Glenn told me to turn toward home. Obliging him, I checked our altitude to make sure it was still correct given our new heading and said it all out loud so that Glenn would know that I knew to do so.
This part of the test consisted of the easier fundamentals of flight, turns around a point, etc…
Glenn reached over and pulled the power. “Your engine just died. What do you do?”
I recited the ABC’s of an engine-out “Aviate. Best field. Communicate. Best glide speed is 68, find a field, and troubleshoot: try to restart the engine.” I threw each switch to restart the engine. “If that fails then tune radio to 121.5 and squawk 7700 (tune transponder to 7700 the emergency squawk). If that fails shut down engine, put jackets in the doors so that they stay open on landing, and don’t shut down master until landing is assured.” Okay. That was only a simulated engine failure, but my heart was pounding. I could feel my pulse in my wrists and the perspiration underneath my headphones. An engine failure is one of the most important procedures that we pilots need to memorize. It’s life or death.
We turned toward home. I tuned for the weather, and called the tower for permission to enter the airspace. It had been a long, taxing day with every minute occupied with maneuvers and testing. I felt weary.
His desired landing was a soft field landing. I always felt that having to learn soft-field landings was unfair because the insurance companies usually prohibit anything besides landing on a paved field. But I guess of all people, I will probably be the one landing in some exotic country on a dirt or grass strip. In all honestly, this touch down was not my best demonstration of this technique, although thank goodness it was within PTS.
We cleared the runway, off on Foxtrot, and taxied back to PCF. After shutdown, Glenn looked at me and spoken in a manner much like his great-grandfather, Ringling Brothers owner P. T. Barnum, announced: “Stop the presses. Adele Schneidereit is now a licensed pilot.”
To spite my best efforts, my eyes refused to stay dry. This was the very instant when all my hard work and dreams and my instructor’s hard work and hopes came to fruition.
*******************************************
Help raise awareness to find a cure for Cerebral Palsy. Visit “Inspire the World Foundation” Online Today