Solo!!! (Part 3)

After leaving the airport, I had some phone calls to make! The very first was to Mom who was, of course, thrilled for me. The next was to Uncle Lenny who I'd promised to call on the day I soloed. He, too, was so happy for me. Having once soloed himself, he knew exactly the feeling of experiencing the thrill of a flight under none but your own hands. There's nothing quite like it in the world! Finally, I called a couple other friends who were also very excited! Several times I was told, "You sound like you're still on cloud nine!" I suppose I did.

That night, we celebrated (as Uncle Lenny told me to) with a surprise cake Mom had bought a couple months ago and frozen in anticipation of this day. It was a special way to mark the day.

A few days later, the Wings As Eagles crew from church invited me to come to one of their meetings where they surprised me with a cake and sang "Happy Solo" to me! It was very nice of them.

In my last post, I mentioned that I wondered what Steve feels when one of his students solos. An excerpt from an article he wrote for EAA's Vintage Airplane Magazine (May 2012) entitled "Airport at Sunset" and very much worth reading in it's entirety, perhaps gives a glimpse of this. Here it is:

"The airport is a great place to spend the day. I love every waking moment that I'm there, but I especially love the last hour of the day. As I sit and reflect on the day's activity, I think about the six or seven students with whom I flew. Each made progress toward learning to fly, and at least one of them made their first solo flight that day. It brings a huge grin to my face as I think about how that student acted after the first flight lesson and then how they felt after completing three solo takeoffs and landings. What an achievement for them.
"With rare exception the new solo flight students can't stop talking about the flight. The conversation usually begins with, 'I can't believe how short the Cub gets off the ground and the way it climbs when you're not sitting in front of me! And it seems to float forever when landing.'
"When a first solo flight occurs, the other folks at the airport all drop what they are doing and gather in front of the hangar to offer their personal congratulations. All await the traditional shirttail cutting, then follow with another round of backslapping, handshaking, and good-natured ribbing."

It's amazing how closely this description fits my own experience. While I'm referring to magazine articles, I thought I would recommend another very good article in the most recent edition of EAA's Sport Aviation (September 2012). One by Brady Lane--"A Sea of Yellow"--about the Cubs2Osh event in July. Not only is the article good but so are the pictures, especially the first one which, permit me to say with a touch of pride, shows the plane I soloed in, Cub NC70186, in flight. It is a beautiful plane and yes, I admit to being slightly biased! I'd also like to put in a plug for the CubAir website here. It's worth checking out if you haven't already. Just click the link on the sidebar above. A link to an article about the school which was featured in Sport Aviation a while ago is available on the home page and is very neat to read. 

The pictures you see here are of a paper model I recently completed.

Here is a poem entitled "First Solo Flight" which I thought I would also include in this post as it encapsulates in a few lines this experience of a lifetime.

Yesterday I soared through the sky;

Saw the earth from an Eagle's eye.

Touched and warmed by rays from the sun;

My machine and myself transformed into one.

This brief time belonged to me...

Climbing higher, glancing back to see;

Where I'd been and What I'd done...

I realized how far I'd come.

Yesterday, a dream. Today, a reality.

                               ~Betty M. Simpson

As I stated in my last post, I am keenly aware of the fact that I did not reach this point on my own. In addition to God and my instructors there are so many others... All those who have prayed for me, given me advice, supported and cheered me on, or, perhaps even unwittingly, been an inspiration not only to begin my flight training but to keep on with it. To you, I would like to say a huge thank you!!! I couldn't have come this far without you. Don't stop!

To those who still dream of someday learning to fly I would say "never give up!" As Dick Rutan says, "If you can dream it, you can do it, and the only way to fail is if you quit." I received a card for my 19th birthday which reads as follows:

When you walk...

     The Lord will guide you.

When you run...

     He will sustain you.

And when you fly...

     yes, when you fly--

           He will take you places you never dreamed.

At that moment, the dream of learning to fly seemed farther away than ever. To receive this simple message at such a time inspired me with new hope. It meant so much to me that to this day, I keep it in plain view on a shelf in my room as a reminder that "With God nothing shall be impossible." (Lk. 1:37)

Solo!!! (Part 2)

Drawing a quick and shaky breath, I took the controls--somewhat comforting in their familiarity--released the brakes, and started forward. How big and empty the forward cockpit suddenly seemed! At the end of the runway, I swung the plane around, nose pointed down the runway. Right away, I was amazed by its agility. It took far less power than usual to turn and once started, the Cub didn't want to stop! I had to use both brake and opposite rudder to correct it. Now lined up and ready to go, I paused for a few brief seconds, focusing all my thoughts on the task ahead.

With one hand gripping the throttle, the other, the stick, I applied full power. The Cub at once surged ahead and, in what seemed like an incredibly short distance, almost before I was ready, was airborne and climbing at a breathtakingly steep, yet not nose high, angle. I recalled that several people had told me at different times that without the extra weight of an instructor in the front seat, I would be amazed at how quickly the plane would climb but I never dreamed the difference would be that extreme! It felt like we were going more up than forward! The ground literally dropped away from beneath us and by the time I'd flown the length of the runway and crossed the opposite threshold, I was astonished to see the altimeter already reading 1400 feet! I was already within a hundred feet of the altitude at which I would make my first traffic check before continuing the climb to pattern altitude of 1800 feet as I made the turn to the crosswind leg. And I'd barely even left the airport behind! Well, I realized, I'll just have to fly the extended centerline until I'm a reasonable distance from the airport then continue on as normal from there. 

"Continue on as normal?" As simple as that? The words sound so careless and were a far cry from what I was feeling. My mind was a whirl of varying thoughts and emotions. Was I nervous? A little perhaps. I didn't doubt I could do it, it was just a matter of how well. Scared? Not too much. Excited? Yes, but until I was back on the ground at the hangar, this feeling was somewhat suppressed and now that I think about it, I guess all of these were. I was so focused on what to do next, I really didn't feel too much else. Somehow, out of all this jumble, only those thoughts that were most important to the moment remained clear. The rest (what I felt, emotions I experienced) faded into the background, saved up for a later time to be sorted out and savored at leisure.

I do recall the vague thought in the back of my mind just after liftoff, You're committed now. You'll have to come down eventually. But now as I flew the downwind leg, my thoughts were clear and the actions that followed them, orderly. It was a routine I'd almost subconsciously memorized through countless repetitions.

There's 1800. Level off, power back to 2200 rpm. Oh! I'm nearly opposite the runway threshold now. Carb heat! Can I really reach it? I lean forward rather awkwardly. Ah yes, got it! Carb heat on. Power back to 1700 rpm. Descending. Check distance from runway over left shoulder. Okay, it's about 45 degrees off. Turn to base and start to judge if I'm too high or too low. Too high? Okay, take out a little power. Now turn onto final.

Once on final there is a period of agonizing waiting, watching the runway come up to meet you and knowing you'll have to put the plane down there in only a few more seconds. But I've been here too. I know what to do. Everything looks good except--out on the taxiway ahead of me, I can see a large sweeping machine just approaching the intersection with the runway--my runway. Just as I'm wondering whether he'll stop or not, I hear Steve's voice over the radio. "You'll have to go around Serena. He doesn't see you." So without hesitation, I apply full power to repeat the entire process all over again. Still, it's comforting to know Steve is looking out for me.

So around I go once again. This is the easy part--flying the pattern. On approach for the second time, I find the airport clear and set up again for landing. Gradually, I bleed off power as the runway grows in the windscreen. Now it is underneath me. Level off. Now start bringing that stick back. Eyes down the runway, and I stare for all I'm worth as though I can see straight through the instrument panel which now blocks all forward vision as I raise the nose holding the plane off the ground. It slows, settles, and I'm down. Slowly I realize I've just made my first landing--alone!

"Great job, Serena! Beautiful landing!" comes Steve's voice through my headset. All I could manage to say in reply was a rather weak-with-relief "Thank you." But I couldn't allow myself to relax or revel in any feeling of accomplishment just yet. I still had two more landings to make.

I taxi back to the end of the runway and reposition for takeoff. Again the nose swings farther than I want it to. That slight crosswind from the left could be part of the cause as the plane is no doubt trying to weathervane. I correct it and then we're off again! I remember to let the stick come forward almost with the throttle as I've been working on. The Cub seems to behave a bit more normally this time but is still airborne in a far shorter time than I'm used to.

Climb to 500 feet agl, level for traffic check, turn to crosswind and continue climbing. So it goes. On around the pattern and soon I am on final once again. Down to meet the runway. I'm coming in a bit faster this time and trying my best to counteract that left crosswind and still keep the plane headed toward the runway. At some point it dawns on me that up until today I've never even made any landings in a left crosswind before! All my other crosswind landings have been in a right crosswind! You wouldn't think it would make much difference but it really does feel different.

Thus, my second landing wasn't quite as smooth as the first--or didn't seem like it anyway. Still, I was down with the plane in one piece. "Good job!" Steve told me once again. "Remember to get that stick over to the left as you make your landing," he reminded me. His voice was calm and reassuring. As I taxied back to the threshold for my final takeoff, I cast a glance over toward the hangar where he stood  and wondered how it must feel to an instructor to release his student on a first solo.

Okay, here I am ready for my final takeoff. Recalling Steve's words, I push the stick to the left and apply full power. The left wing lifts suddenly and an involuntary cry escapes my lips as I see the right wing dip close to the ground. For a split second I'm afraid it will strike but then we're airborne. (It probably wasn't actually as close as it seemed!) Whew! What a takeoff! I was sure I had that stick over! Evidently, it wasn't enough. At least I'm off the ground! I'm no Kyle Franklin but you never would've guessed it watching that takeoff! (If you saw him fly his Cub comedy routine at AirVenture this year, you know what I'm talking about!)

Once again, I flew the pattern. I guess I was pretty tense. My jaw was set, teeth clenched, (I didn't realize until later just how tense my muscles were!) lips closed, and brows knit in concentration.  As I flew the downwind leg, I momentarily forgot to check my altimeter and suddenly found myself one hundred feet above pattern altitude! No big deal really. It's happened before, but I quickly reduced power to 1700 rpm since I was already opposite the runway threshold anyway.

Down, around, around once more, and here I am on final approach, using left stick, right rudder to correct for the crosswind as I've been taught. Just as I am beginning to flare, I hear Steve's voice cut through the static coming through my headphones. "The wind is almost down 29. You could go around and try that instead."

I was already almost down however, so I just continued my flare and set down--with a bounce. But I was down! It was my third landing and with that, my first solo flight was complete! There were Steve's congratulations over the radio. Now, as I turned the plane to taxi toward the hangar, I at last began to relax. A mounting sense of accomplishment slowly grew in my heart and mingled with a quiet joy. I had done it!!!

Taxiing up to the hangar after my very first solo!

I could see Steve and Dana (the lady who takes care of scheduling and much of the flight school office work) standing in front of the hangar, waiting to congratulate me. I braked to a stop and cut the switches, my face wreathed in smiles. Dana's two dogs, Piper and Hank (regular visitors to the flight school whom I've gotten to know pretty well) were at once at the side of the cockpit, standing on their hind legs to reach me. "They wanted to be the first to congratulate you," Steve said as he stepped up and opened the door. Dana snapped a quick picture before I climbed out. "Great job!" Steve shook my hand with a smile almost as big as my own.

Then he pulled out the scissors. It was time for my initiation as a newly soloed pilot. Dana stood by as witness and took the pictures you see here as Steve divested me of my shirttail which now hangs with many others in the office. The only other onlooker to this simple ceremony was an older gentleman who sat quietly at a table a little distance away. As I walked by him on my way to the office he spoke.
"Pretty exciting, eh?"
"Yeah," I replied grinning.
"You'll never forget it," he said softly and I sensed he might be recalling that milestone in his own life. Something about him made me think of  my own Grandpa Dopke. I remember only a little about him, but I know he would've been so proud of me. He knew how to fly and though he never got his pilot's license, he was always interested in planes and aviation.  He never knew I wanted to learn to fly but would've been so happy for me.

Back in the office, Steve filled out the usual paperwork--logbook and flight training record--but in addition, filled in the appropriate boxes on my medical certificate and put a note in the back of my logbook stating that I had met the requirements and was competent to make solo flights in a Piper J3. Date: 9-6-12 Signed: S.L. Krog. It gave me a special thrill to watch as he recorded my first .4 hours as pilot-in-command in my logbook and penned in the margin, "1st solo!"

At the same time, however, I was watching all of this in a sort of daze, every once in a while looking out through the window at the beautiful Cub brilliant in the sunshine, still trying to grasp that I'd just flown it by myself! Alone--yet not alone, I realized. Obviously, I could never have reached this point without the help of my flight instructors, both Steve and Joe. And there is Someone else...

As I have said before, I had hoped to solo in 20 hours or less but the Lord had other plans and, disappointed as I was to have had no lessons the whole month of July, there was nothing I could do but trust that He knew exactly why and trust His timing. So today, in God's perfect time, at 21.8 hours--one hour for each year of my life--I soloed. I am so grateful for His leading me through the years to this point. As my faithful Pilot, He has never left my side for a moment--not even when Steve got out today. It is His grace which has enabled me, with persistence and dilligence, to reach this first major milestone in my aviation journey, for that's truly what it is--a day every aspiring pilot dreams of. Today I was shown once again that "I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me" (Phil. 4:13) whether it's a perfect takeoff, a crosswind landing or my very first solo flight!

Here I am--a very happy now soloed student pilot!!!

Solo!!! (Part 1)

Lesson 20
9-6-12
1.2 hours logged
21.8 hours total recorded in logbook


I woke this morning to find the golden light of sunrise still tinting the trees. A low fog hung over the landscape but there was not a breath of wind. As the sun rose higher, a light breeze began to blow but it was only just enough to dissipate the fog.What a beautiful day for flying!

A beautiful day for flying!

So it was with a feeling mostly of anticipation but mingled with a little trepidation that I drove the well-worn route to good old HXF. Upon my arrival, I found Steve waiting and we went through the usual routine. I pre-flighted Cub 186, climbed aboard, and held the brakes while Steve spun the prop. He got in and we taxied to the end of 36 for our first takeoff. We put it through the paces of six takeoffs and landings. I think I made more good landings than bad ones and I am learning that some bad landings are not always entirely the pilot's fault. A gust of wind, a bump in the runway, or some other seemingly insignificant thing can quickly cause an otherwise good landing to go awry. No matter what happens though, it is always the pilot's responsibility to maintain control and recover safely and efficiently, using any number of available tools to accomplish this. I am in the process of learning what tools work best in different situations. It's all part of refining the landing technique and striving to become a better, safer pilot.

With takeoffs, I am learning to let the airplane fly itself off the runway by relaxing back pressure on the stick as it accelerates rather than trying to "pull" the plane off the ground. I was able to impress Steve with a few really good ones.

Then of course there are always the winds to deal with. While there wasn't a whole lot of wind today, what wind there was just had to be a crosswind to all runways. And there was enough to feel it on takeoff and landing I soon discovered!

Once as we flew the pattern, Steve pulled the power on me. No surprises this time. I knew exactly what to do! Well, nearly. As I pointed the nose for 36, the nearest runway, it was obvious we were way too high. Steve told me to slip it, so I did. I threw the Cub into the hardest left sideslip I dared and amazingly all that extra altitude quickly disappeared. Those sideslips feel a little strange but I actually kind of like them! Well that landing ended up not being the best but at least I got it down on the runway!

We came around for landing number six which was also somewhat less than ideal. As we rolled to a stop, Steve told me to taxi back to the end of the runway. At that moment, I began to sense something different was about to happen as this was not part of the usual touch-and-go routine I'd become accustomed to. And he hadn't told me to taxi back to the hangar as he would have if we were done for the day. No, something was different. But obediently I followed his instruction and without question turned around heading back toward the runway threshold. We'd gone only a short distance however when he told me to stop. Huh...? Why? The question was only just beginning to form in my mind when Steve spoke.

"Okay, Serena, I'm going to get out," he said. The next few sentences, though I heard them, were quickly forgotten as the full realization of what he'd just told me began to sink in. My initial thought was, You're going to let me go now? After a landing like that? He unbuckled his seatbelt, turned around and looked at me. Though my mouth was forming a  smile, my eyes were wide and my heartbeat had doubled I'm sure.

He climbed out. As if in answer to my unspoken question, "You're going to fly! Here's what I want you to do," he continued. "Taxi down to the end of the runway, do a normal takeoff, go around the pattern just like we've done and then come in and make one of those beautiful landings you've shown me before. If it doesn't look right, go around. I don't care if you make ten go-arounds before you finally land. Once you've landed, taxi back to the end of the runway, take a little breath, then takeoff again. And I want you to do three--three takeoffs, three landings." He held up three fingers. He told me he would have a radio so he could talk to me and showed me how I could talk to him if I needed to then asked if I had any questions. I only wanted to know about applying carburetor heat. In all of my lessons up to this point, that had been the responsibility of whoever sat in the front seat since it is much more easily reached from there, but Steve assured me I'd be able to reach it even from the back.

"Are you ready?" he asked. "I'm ready," I replied with all the confidence I could muster. But I knew I was indeed ready. As ready as I'd ever be. This is the goal I'd been working toward since I began my flight training truly in earnest four months ago.  I'd had almost a full ten days since my last lesson to prepare myself mentally. Over and over again during that time I'd tried to imagine what it would be like to fly alone. Here I was, about to find out.

"All right then! Bring my baby back. I'll be needing it again," Steve said giving the Cub an affectionate pat. He closed the lower half of the door and with one more reassuring smile, a high five, and a salute, he turned and walked away. I was on my own!

Anticipation...

Lesson 19
8-27-12
1.0 hours logged
20.6 hours total recorded in logbook

The lesson began and went as usual for the most part. We worked on--oh! Landings of course! There was only a slight crosswind but what wind there was turned out to be rather unpredictable. Even so, almost all my landings were pretty good. You just have to be ready for whatever strange things the wind might throw at you and that's a bit unnerving when you're within feet of the ground and trying to land! No matter what the wind does, you must aim to keep the plane lined up on, and over the runway, and add power if necessary just before touchdown.

As I was preflighting the Cub today,
I suddenly looked up and saw this perfect picture
opportunity.

While I can now make pretty consistently good takeoffs without a whole lot of coaching, and am getting there with landings, there is still plenty of fine tuning to be done on both of these. Whenever I make a landing that's not so good, the cause is usually still not getting the stick back enough. There is a critical moment between levelling and flaring when the plane has slowed enough that it will not climb if you pull the stick back but will instead sink gently to the ground and I am still learning to sense when that exact moment is. Sometimes I can, sometimes I can't. With takeoffs I could still use to let the stick come forward more before pulling back to lift off. I tried to improve these things with each time around the pattern and was doing better by the end.


It was such a beautiful day for flying again--such a deep blue sky, such clear air, such breathtaking views of the countryside from above! I just love flying on days like this! I felt it had been a wonderful lesson as we flew the pattern for what turned out to be my last landing of the day and was enjoying that feeling when suddenly, without warning, Joe pulled the throttle back to idle and announced, "Your engine just quit. What are you going to do?" I was taken totally by surprise. I suppose I shouldn't have been (though you usually aren't expecting the engine to quit when it does) as I've read all about simulated engine-outs and knew instructors like to pull them suddenly on unsuspecting students. It was a timely reminder against complacency for it is often when you feel most secure and comfortable that some unexpected thing like this pops up and, in such a situation, you have little time for pondering your next move.

I stuttered for a few seconds looking for an answer while my eyes instinctively searched the ground below. Obviously, we weren't that far from the airport so Joe instructed me to head straight for the middle of it and then decide which runway to use. 36 appeared to be the best option so I lined up as best I could and set down in a slight crosswind from the left and without the benefit of being able to use power to remedy a bounced landing.

What an end to my lesson! Still, it was with a feeling of genuine happiness at how things had gone that I taxied us to a stop in front of the hangar and cut the engine. After all, it was my very first simulated engine failure and I had managed to land safely! My lesson was not quite over yet, however.

As  Joe filled out my logbook, I heard him say, "I'd strongly recommend you start wearing shirts you don't care about to lesson because you're getting precariously close to soloing and when you do, a large part of the back of your shirt is going to end up right over there," and he gestured to the corkboard in the corner on which are pinned a large variety of fabric scraps--the shirt tails of numerous students before me who have passed that first great milestone in their flight training journey. (For those not familiar with this aviation tradition, it is customary to cut the shirt tail of a student who has just soloed.) Those words alone sent a thrill of delighted surprise all through me.

But then he continued, "If you'd been here earlier when the winds were a little more favorable, I might have even soloed you today!" I sucked in my breath. I couldn't believe my ears! Had I heard him right? I had both heard and understood the words very clearly but to fully grasp what he'd said took me a few moments. I was at once both glad and disappointed that the winds had been what they were. To think I am really that close to soloing! I'm so excited!

Joe congratulated me on a good job today, I thanked him, said goodbye, and once outside could quite literally have skipped the few feet to the car. Actually, I'm not even quite sure my feet were touching the ground! I'm so happy! After 20.6 hours, the big day is finally almost here! It's been a long wait. I've felt a little discouraged at times since I was hoping to have soloed in 20 hours and I suppose I might have had it not been for that unintended break in my lessons. That was so hard to take at times but I wasn't about to give up then, or when I found crosswind landings to be more of a challenge than I thought they might be, and now my patience and persistence is soon going to pay off. I can hardly wait!

Here I am, a very happy, "almost soloed" student pilot!