Bush Flying in Wisconsin--Or as Close as You Can Get to It!

Lesson 32
11-29-12
1.0 hours logged
38.0 hours total recorded in logbook

The weather seemed perfect. Sunny skies, low winds, slightly warmer temperatures (the sun  being out helps a ton). I couldn't have asked for better conditions especially considering the time of year. So I made the drive down to HXF fully expecting to be gone until sometime well into the afternoon. Today I would finally make my first solo cross-country--at last! The delay in plans between my last flight and this had pretty much erased any feelings of nervousness about making the flight so most of what I felt now was simply anticipation--eagerness to have it done! 

Thus I arrived the airport mentally geared up and prepared to go. Joe was there waiting, ready to look the weather over with me and assist me with final flight planning as needed. The weather reports all looked good. Winds were great--a direct tailwind on my first leg but only 10 knots, nothing too tricky to land in. With the wind information, I began filling in the remainder of my flight log. It was as I was in the middle of this process that Steve (Krog) came into the office. He'd just returned from a flight with another student and told us, "You may want to reconsider that flight today." My heart sank as I heard the words. "Visibility is not very good and the wind at 500 to 1,000 feet is really howling," he informed us. What?! I thought. A look at the windsock seemed to indicate little wind and I recalled that the wind turbines had barely been turning on my drive down. As for visibility there was some haze I had noted during the drive but it didn't seem too bad.

Well that right there is a prime example of the difference only 500 feet can make. While it was true that winds at the surface were relatively low velocity, only 500 feet higher they were definitely blowing! And while the haze didn't seem so bad from the ground, at 500 feet altitude, it was much more pronounced in its effect. Although it would seem obvious, this also demonstrates the importance of checking the actual weather outside before leaving on a flight and not just relying totally on the forecasts and other weather reports! Two lessons learned already before even leaving the ground! The news was still disheartening nonetheless.

"What'd you have to come in and tell us that for?" Joe griped playfully to Steve. I smiled wryly knowing that Joe would certainly take Steve's word for it. Once again I was forced to come to grips with the bitter fact that you cannot change the weather. It's all the harder to take though, when looks are so deceiving. A look out the window and through the hangar door to the wind sock and the beautiful blue sky...oh! it was so disappointing! But I, too, had to be willing to trust my instructor's better judgment and so resigned myself to the fact that I would simply not be going. "There's only one problem," I said. "I'm down here." To have driven all that way and now...now what?

Warming the engine

Well Steve, though the bearer of the bad news, now came to the rescue with a "plan of action" as he called it. "Oooo, better watch out. This could be dangerous!" Joe kidded while Steve grinned back mischievously at him. His suggestion was that Joe take his (Steve's) next student and Steve would go up with me, take me out to a couple tiny grass strips and practice short-field takeoffs and landings with me. He's been wanting to do this with me he said. "It's not something I normally do with primary students but since you're going to be doing mission flying in and out of these little bush strips, I think this will really help you. Remember we're going to make you the best woman missionary pilot there is out there. So if that sounds okay with everyone, that's what we'll do." 

There were no objections and so while Steve fueled our bird and pre-heated the engine, I sat in the office as he told me to and struck up a conversation with the student he'd just returned with. He was an older man, probably in his 60's who had come all the way from Montana for a week of hard and fast instruction in an effort to complete his sport pilot training which he'd begun quite some time before but, because of issues with flight instructors and other problems, had let drop for six months. He came here because there's no one out there who instructs in Cubs! Wow! That sure makes me appreciate living this close to CubAir. I guess I'll never look at that two-hour-round-trip drive quite the same again!

But why come all that distance just to learn to fly in a Cub? For him, the simplicity of flying that type of plane was the draw. He is a grass farmer and in his words, "it's just like a piece of farm machinery to me. Easy to use, easy to repair." So while still only on his second day of instruction in the Cub, he, like so many others, was already finding it pure joy to fly. He was also able to sympathize with my disappointment at the cancelled solo cross-country flight. "I think mine was cancelled thrice before I finally got a day that was good enough," he recalled. Just then, Steve stuck his head in the door to let me know I could pre-flight our Cub for the day--'186--so I said goodbye to the man, thinking how good it had been to talk to a fellow student pilot who had gone through some of the same frustrations as me. It always helps to know you're not alone.

As I was pre-flighting the plane, I was approached by Joe's student for the day, another guy who also looked to be about in his 60's. This would be only his second flying lesson of any kind and he was preparing to pre-flight the other Cub with Joe's help. He watched me silently for a few seconds then asked, "Are you an experienced pilot?" The question took me rather by surprise. I had to laugh. Me? An experienced pilot? Did I look like it I wondered? I guess I just never thought of myself in that vein before and the thought struck me funny. I wondered if the man had spoken in jest but it didn't appear that this was the case. Both his voice and manner told me quite the opposite. He was quite in earnest! Still laughing a little, I told him, "I'm just another student pilot." Though I may have thirty-some hours more than him, I'm far from an expert!

As I finished the pre-flight I was thinking, here's a guy just getting started with his flight training and I've just finished talking to another who's almost ready for his checkride. I think that must be one of the most exciting parts of flight instruction--having students at all stages of the flight training process and watching them, one by one, reach their next goal whether it's to make that perfect landing, to solo, or to pass a checkride.

After I'd completed the walk-around, I met Steve in the office and he explained to me in a bit more detail exactly what we'd be doing and where we'd be going. "We'll go to two strips. The first is 1,000 feet long with trees off one end. When you first see it, you're gonna wonder how you're ever gonna land on that. It'll look about like trying to land on the deck of an aircraft carrier but by the time we've made a few landings I'll bet you'll be using only half the total length of the strip. Then we're gonna fly to another strip, longer, but with huge obstructions on both ends--trees, houses, outbuildings. There I'm gonna show you how to sideslip it in. I want you to do this so that someday when you're out flying in Alaska or Africa with your check pilot, you'll show him a beautiful sideslip into some tiny little airstrip and he'll ask, 'Have you done this before?' and you'll be able to say, 'Oh yeah, I used to do these all the time!'"

He laughed his infectious laugh and I couldn't help thinking how much I appreciate his foresight. Flight instruction ought to be so much more than just teaching what is required just so someone can get a license or pass a checkride. Steve is doing his best to be thorough with me and even now he is thinking beyond my checkride and doing his best to prepare me for my future (as he sees it) as "the best woman missionary pilot on the field." He is as committed to helping me reach my goals as I am to working towards them, and between the two of us, I think I'll do okay. I sure appreciate this about him as an instructor.

With this as my pre-flight briefing, we pushed the plane out and I climbed in. Steve followed while Joe stood by to prop the plane for us. Steve told him to pull through four blades and then judging that it "sounds right" (How can he tell when it "sounds right"?  I wondered with amazement), I turned the switch to mags hot, Steve cracked the throttle and with both of us holding the brakes, Joe swung the prop and the engine came to life.

Steve told me runway 18-36 was not an option for today's purposes even though the wind was almost straight down 36. The crosswind to runway 11-29 was 90-degrees nearly exact so we could've taken off from either end. Steve showed me how, in such a situation,with the effects of engine torque and p-factor taken into account, 11 would prove the best choice. As we taxied out, Steve made a traffic check and reported nothing in sight--"except that Lufthansa 747 up there," and he pointed up through the skylight where, high overhead, could be seen four condensation trails melting into one marking the path of a large jet. I laughed. Steve was, of course, just playing with me. There's no way he could tell at that height that the jet was a 747, much less a Lufthansa 747! "And you think I'm crazy don't you," he said, not giving up yet. When I didn't reply with anything but a grin he added, "You know, Serena, one of these days you're just gonna get so fed up with me, you're just gonna smack me--and I'd deserve every bit of it." He can be a real smart-aleck sometimes and anyone who's met him before knows it!

Beautiful countryside south of Hartford. Holy Hill in the distance.

Lined up and ready to go on the runway, I paused a second to check the windsock one more time before takeoff. I made sure to hold the stick to the right to compensate for the crosswind as we accelerated and lifted off smoothly and gracefully. We climbed to 500, levelled momentarily for the usual traffic check, then continued climbing as we departed the pattern to the south. We flew south of the airport, south of town a few miles and as we did so Steve told me, "I don't doubt you were capable of making that solo flight today but flying should always be three things: fun, safe, and challenging and with the wind and visibility what it is today I don't think the flight would have been very fun for you." This was all the explanation I needed. I knew he was right. I was still sad it hadn't worked out but this feeling was quickly disappearing as we flew along. I found myself looking forward to the challenges of short-field takeoffs and landings.

If Steve hadn't pointed out the first strip as we came up to it, I doubt I would've seen it. Surrounded by harvested cornfields on three sides and with a little farm on the other, the brown grass of it's surface was hardly enough of a distinguishing factor. A simple windsock on a pole stood nearby but it was rather worn and faded. Yes, I'm quite certain I would've flown right on by and never known it was there.

Though the quality of this picture isn't very good, you can
still just make out the first strip we visited stretching
across the middle of it. It's easier to see the farm next to it.

Now to set about landing on this aircraft-carrier-deck of a runway! It didn't look so bad as we entered the pattern around it--until I was on final. There were some trees off the approach end that, in my care to avoid them, caused me to come in rather too high and fast. We crossed the threshold, floated and floated, still burning excess speed--and lots of runway. "There's the halfway point and you're not down. Better go around," Steve told me and I didn't hesitate. Throttle forward, carb heat off. The engine throbbed back to life startling horses grazing in a pasture beneath us. I looked down and saw them scatter, running about wildly. (It gives the feeling of flying out of some remote strip perhaps out west in the middle of nowhere! In my imagination, those might have been wild horses!) I flew the pattern again and this time I forced myself closer to those trees and made sure to reduce the throttle earlier than I felt was right. Down we came, a little floating, then we had touched down with a few small bounces. When we finally braked to a stop and I turned the plane around to taxi back for another takeoff, it could be seen that there was still at least a quarter of the runway left in front of us. Whew!

At the end of the runway, set for takeoff, Steve gave me instructions for a short-field takeoff. I thought I'd already practiced these at the airport and maybe we had, but not the way we did them out here! Perhaps this is the difference between doing them for practice and doing them "for real" as Steve assured me that this was. It was indeed true that we were taking off of a very short field indeed with some very real trees not too far off the end of the runway.

"Hold the brakes while you advance the throttle to full power, then release the brakes and get right on the rudder pedals. Get the stick forward right away then pull the plane off the ground, level it, fly it in ground effect just above the runway until you've reached climb speed then pull up and away," Steve explained as he demonstrated the first one. 

We flew another pattern and I made a second landing, already better than the last, then it was my turn to try a short-field takeoff for the first time for real! Steve talked me through it and I did just fine, climbing over those trees with plenty of room to spare. Not bad! It was exciting in a good way! I made one more landing which Steve let me do entirely on my own with only a little verbal coaching. Again, it wasn't too bad. By this time, I was able to stop within the first two-thirds of the runway if not quite the first half.

We back-taxied (this runway being too short for touch-and-goes even in a Cub) and with the simple words, "Show me a good short-field takeoff," Steve let me have the controls. Hold the brakes, throttle to full power. I felt the whole airframe vibrating around me and the stick in my hand. Okay, release the brakes and go for it! It reminded me of the part on the movie "Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo" where they're practicing for takeoff on a carrier deck. Maybe there's a bit of truth in that analogy with this little strip!

After we lifted off and cleared the trees, Steve had me point the nose in a new direction. A few miles further south, he pointed out the second strip. Again, it took me a moment to spot it and when I did I thought, We're going to land on that?! Seriously? It was longer than the other one by a bit, true, but there were trees right off the runway threshold on one end and a house on the other! In fact, the west end of the runway blended quite seamlessly into the yard surrounding the house. As if that weren't enough, Steve told me there was another house nestled in those trees on what would be the approach end of the runway today and that the guy who lives there doesn't want planes flying over his house. That meant we would have to sideslip the plane in. I never understood quite what this meant until today. Instead of approaching the runway directly head on, you approach at an angle off to one side holding the stick and rudder in what is basically a forward slip (exaggerated cross-wind control set up) with enough aileron to move the airplane sideways through the air while losing altitude simultaneously so as to descend just over the treetops. As soon as you're over the runway, you neutralize the controls to straighten out and continue the landing as normal. Sound like a lot? Wait 'til you try one!

Steve did the first one just to show me how it all works, while I followed him on the controls. If felt totally foreign to be approaching the runway from the side like that and it looked like we were heading right for the trees. I was probably almost unconsciously holding my breath as we skimmed over them, straightened out, levelled, flared, and landed all in the space of a few very adrenaline-pumping seconds! "Wow!" was all I could manage once we'd safely rolled to a stop. I didn't even know an airplane could do that! 

Both coming in to land and now as we back taxied I noted a new twist in all of this. The runway was far from level. There were a couple little hills in it and a rather large slope just at the threshold. It took a lot of power to climb this. Steve took the controls once again to demonstrate what a short-field takeoff off a sloping runway is like--a "glacier takeoff" he called it. Rather than stopping at the end of the runway prior to takeoff, you begin advancing the throttle even as you're still swinging the plane around to give the plane as much momentum as possible. This, combined with the speed picked up by the downhill slope help to get the plane airborne more quickly and thus to gain enough altitude to clear the any obstacles before reaching the end of the runway.

Now it was my turn to try all of this with Steve following me on the controls. We flew a tight pattern and again approached the strip from that awkward side angle. I forced myself to reduce the power and thus, altitude, despite the trees which appeared very close. Now kick in right rudder with left aileron until the plane is over the runway, then neutralize the controls to bring the plane briefly back to straight and level before transitioning to landing configuration. It's all done in one graceful swoop and takes mere seconds but requires obvious skill and utmost concentration.

Whew! That was the first part and probably hardest part. Now, to try my hand at a glacier takeoff! Taxiing to the end of the runway, up one hill and down, then up the second bigger one at the very end, I added power to keep it from stopping, added more to swing the plane around and as it did so, and poured on the rest so as to gain the most from downhill momentum. After lift off, I held it above the runway momentarily then climbed steeply to avoid the trees turning at the same time so as not to fly directly over the house on the end. The guy to who lives there is also the one who keeps the runway up. Steve taught him to fly years ago and though he hasn't flown for quite some time, he still likes to see planes come in and out of his little strip. Honestly, he probably wouldn't have minded us flying over his house unlike the guy on the opposite end of the runway but as a matter of common courtesy and politeness, we didn't.

We flew the pattern once again and made the approach, this time from the other side of the runway. From this angle there was a little dip in the trees just before the runway. If you aim for this, the trees don't get quite so uncomfortably close. In we came again, this time holding left rudder, right stick. Over the runway, controls neutral, swoop down and land. Not bad!

We back-taxied for one more non-stop, short-field takeoff which I made smoothly and easily, then banked the plane towards home. Steve told me I'd done a good job. I in turn thanked him for the "bush flying" experience. Though he had told me before we left that if I ever felt uncomfortable with anything we were doing to let him know, I never took him up on this. There was no need to. Rather than being nervous, I found it all rather exciting. It's a whole different realm of flying experience and it may be a while before I feel the confidence to do it alone, but I never found it frightening. I'd do it again any day. I only regret that I did not get any pictures of the second airstrip.

As we flew back to the airport, entered the pattern and touched down for the final landing of the day, Steve told me, "Someday when you're out flying in the bush you're gonna think, 'Boy am I glad Steve made me do those landings!'" I don't doubt he's right about that! Back in the office after the flight, I asked him if those strips we visited have names. (They're not even shown on the sectional.) "Only the ones we give them," Steve replied. The first is called Coffey's, the second, McGrath's.

So there you have it--my first bush flying experience and I loved every minute of it! Even though I was disappointed not to get my solo cross-country in, the experience gained and lessons learned more than made up for it and I was quite satisfied with the days work.