Leaving the Pattern

Lesson 26

10-5-12

2.9 hours logged

29.8 hours total recorded in logbook

Following a mentally overwhelming two-hour flight planning session yesterday afternoon sandwiched between a two-hour music rehearsal in Menomonee Falls and over an hour long drive back to Oshkosh for two hours of Bible Institute class, I finally arrived home around 8:30p.m. After trying rather unsuccessfully to plan out the rest of my flight scheduled for the following day going off of what little it seemed I could remember from the afternoon of how to go about this, I went to bed sometime after midnight to the sound of the wind whistling outside.  None of this seemed to bode well for a cross-country flight the next day.

Sure enough. The day dawned cold and windy--and I mean windy! At least the sun's shining, I thought as I gathered my things and headed for the car. This was an improvement over the blustery overcast of the day before and provided a small comfort. Yet I still arrived at the airport stressed and with some trepidation, something Steve (M.) picked up on immediately. He didn't say anything about it then but later he told me he'd said to Dana, "I've never seen her so nervous and quiet before." It wasn't the flying I was nervous about but I was obviously downcast when Steve asked how my flight planning had gone. I sure didn't have much to show for a couple hours wrangling, neck deep in terms, figures, calculations and the whole use of the E6-B flight computer. It was trying to wrap my mind around all this that had me worried.

We had only an hour before our planned time of departure so Steve did his best to walk me quickly through a few calculations pertaining to our flight which now, with the updated wind information, he decided had better only be up to Iola and back instead of our originally planned route of HXF to Manitowoc, to Iola, and back to HXF. (Less time in the air and thus, less time getting bounced around in the more-than-20-knot, gusty wind.) I still didn't understand much of it and my face must've revealed my discouragement. "Are you gonna be okay with this?" Steve asked. I nodded. I knew I'd be okay once we got off the ground. "Okay then. Go ahead and preflight 21Y," he told me. 

As I did the walk-around, I tried not to let the cold or my agitated state of mind interfere with my careful inspection of the various attachment points, the engine compartment, or the control surfaces. I finished and met Steve coming out of the office. He looked scrutinizingly into my face as he asked once again, "Are you sure you're ready?" 

"Yes, I'm ready," I replied as firmly as I could, returning his look. I was as ready as I'd ever be and there was no way I was not going to make this trip if Steve was okay with going in spite of the less-than-ideal winds. I'd been looking forward to it all week and, in addition, it had worked out that Mr. Rushing was going to fly some friends up to meet me at our destination--the famous Iola Friday fly-in and lunch. So no matter my frustration with the flight planning, plus just being tired, I meant it when I told Steve I was ready. "Okay," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. 

We pushed the Cub out of the hangar, I gathered my carefully marked and folded sectional charts and airport directory, gloves and hat (which I was soon to be very grateful I'd remembered to bring), and climbed in, Steve after me. He closed the door to bar the wind and cold as much as possible but both seeped in through the cracks around the windows and door anyway. We started up, taxied to the end of Runway 29, and went through our pre-takeoff checklist. I pushed the throttle to full power, and we were off. In an incredibly short few seconds, we were airborne at 10:03a.m. Our ground roll must've been fewer than 30 feet thanks to the strong wind! We climbed to our altitude of 2500 ft. and made the turn to our compass heading which had both a significant wind correction angle and magnetic variation figured into it. 

So from here on out it's simple, right? Just hold heading and altitude! That's easier said than done, I soon discovered--especially in a wind like that! We went through some bumps as we were climbing, but once we reached altitude, we actually found the air to be smoother than we had anticipated. 

Gradually, I began to relax and my spirits rose with the airplane as I drank in the beauty of the landscape passing slowly beneath us. Far below, I could see our shadow. That always makes me smile. From up here, I could put all those flight planning problems behind me and focus on the fun part--flying the airplane! And also not getting lost! We hadn't gotten too far when Steve asked me where we were. I pulled out my map and began the search for landmarks. For the moment, it wasn't too hard to guess where we were without even looking at the sectional. We were approaching the large windmill farm that lies just northwest of HXF and is one of the major landmarks in finding that airport. Soon I spotted the white ball of a radome which was marked on the map. It was right where it should be, just to the west of my course line. This also made me feel better. It was to good to see that all that brainwork on the ground it paying off in the air as the landmarks lined up.

Sometimes Steve would take over the flying for me while I checked and double-checked our whereabouts. Handling both flying and navigating was a bit much--in that wind at least! I wasn't too afraid of getting lost, just didn't want to stray off course. We flew over, or near the towns of Theresa, Mayville, Knowles, and Oakfield and as we passed Horicon Marsh on the left, I began to search for my first checkpoint--Hwy 151. It seemed slow to appear but I finally caught sight of it and could answer without hesitation when Steve asked me "What road is this?" 

Aerial view of our land

Now I could see Lake Winnebago and the Fond du Lac airport clearly on my right. There was Hwy 23 and then Eldorado Marsh. Now things really began to look familiar. There was Rosendale and--oh! Looming directly ahead of us and only slightly below, a very tall radio tower. We were a bit too close to it for comfort, so Steve told me I'd better climb a couple hundred feet. I pushed the throttle forward accordingly. We crossed Hwy 26 and my excitment built as I realized we were going to fly right over my house! I pointed it out to Steve and he took the controls and threw the plane into a right bank so I could get a picture. I didn't know our course was going to take us directly over the house or I'd have told Mom to be on the lookout for us. We couldn't take time to circle or anything as we were still trying to keep to our time and so continued on by. About the time we crossed my second checkpoint, Hwy 44 over Pickett, I heard Mr. Rushing's voice over the radio! They were already nearing our destination while we had only just passed the half-way point time-wise of 10:30! A quick comparison of this with the distance remaining to fly showed that we were already off on our time. The flight was taking longer than we'd planned.


As we continued northward, the terrain below once again became unfamiliar. Our course took us directly across Lake Poygan but Steve told me to steer around this. "That water would be cold," was all the reason he gave and all that was needed. I didn't need to be told twice. I could tell just by looking that, were we to have an engine failure over the middle of the lake, we probably would not be able to glide to the shore. Steve has been teaching me to be constantly aware of the nature of the terrain below and almost subconsciously thinking, where would I land if the engine conked now. This is simply good practice for any pilot. The farther north we travelled, however, the less suitable landing places there were. Fewer and fewer fields and more woods. Though less hospitable to off-airport landings, their colors sure were beautiful!

Gorgeous colors!!!

On approach to land at Iola (68C)

After passing a third checkpoint, Waupaca Airport, it was time to begin the search for the tiny airport at Iola. Here for the first time, I could find no obvious landmarks agreeing with what I saw on the sectional. We weren't lost--at least Steve didn't seem to be. If I'd been flying alone though.... Even when he pointed out several small lakes in the distance as landmarks, I didn't seem to be able to figure out which ones they were on the map. We were getting close and still I could not see the airport. Where could it be?! Even when Steve finally pointed it out to me, it took me a minute to actually see. It's so small! As confirmation that this was indeed Iola, he also pointed out the junkyard of cars not too far from the airport. Dana had told me to watch for this as it is easier to see than the airport itself. She was right!

I flew the approach to Runway 22 but Steve helped me out quite a bit with the landing. It was just so gusty! Once we were down, he let me taxi us over to a parking spot beside N7374E--the Wings 172. I hadn't even stopped when I caught sight of Mr. Rushing and the three other familiar faces of my friends. I was so glad to see them! I swung the plane around, facing into the wind, and cut the switches. Steve graciously told me he'd take care of securing the plane so I could meet them so I climbed out rather stiffly and was soon face to face with the four of them. For Mr. Rushing's three passengers, it was their first time ever up in a plane so I asked, "How was the flight?" Their smiles were answer enough for the moment. "You must've made good time," I remarked. "Twenty-eight minutes," Mr. Rushing told me. He met Steve and they hit it off well as most fellow pilots seem to.

Together, we all walked inside the main building on the airport--a barn-like structure with this message on the side: "Built for the Love of Flying." Inside, it was warm in both atmosphere and (especially welcome) temperature. A fire blazed on the hearth in the one corner and the smell of  lunch cooking filled our nostrils. Standing in groups of twos or threes, or seated on couches or at the long tables which occupied the greater part of the room were the usual fly-in crowd. Mostly older folks, but some younger ones, men and women, pilots and non-pilots. Above our heads hung an array of all types and sizes of model airplanes.

Soon the line began forming for the meal and we fell in. It was a delicious lunch! Pork chops, mashed potatoes, gravy, beans, rolls, applesauce, and pie or cookies with ice cream for desert! As we ate, my friends told me their first impressions of flying. Comments like the following reminded me of my own early flights: "The houses look like dollhouses!" "But it didn't seem like we were really going that fast!" "He let me fly for a while! It's not as hard as I thought it would be."


We were just finishing when Steve, talking to Mr. Rushing about my flight training so far, said, "We're not letting her off with just being a straight-and-level, fairweather pilot. We're doing short-field, soft-field takeoffs and landings, dead stick landings, wheel landings, the whole bit and we're working her hard the whole way." It seemed a fairly accurate description but I must say I'm glad they're doing things the way they are. I do want to be the best I possibly can be.

The airport as seen from the air. Can you find it?

Now Steve turned to me and began to discuss the plan for our flight from Iola. He told me if I felt up to it, we could try flying to Clintonville by pilotage. I told him I was and so he went out to preflight the Cub while I finished my conversation and said goodbye to my friends. They accompanied me to the plane and watched as we climbed in, buckled up, and taxied back out the way we'd come in. Again we used Runway 22. As I pushed the throttle to full power, I gave one final quick wave to that little group of four who had braved the biting wind to come stand beside the runway as I took off. In seconds, we were airborne. 

The Cub seemed reluctant to climb at first and the trees at the edge of the field loomed up quickly, but finally, the plane climbed out of ground effect and we cleared the trees with plenty of room to spare then circled back around in the opposite direction to begin our flight in the direction of Clintonville. Now we were caught in the teeth of the wind again and it tossed us first this way, then that, up and then down, once with such force that I was thrown against my seatbelt as I lifted out of the seat! Good thing Steve had reminded me to be sure it was fastened!

We hadn't gone far and Steve asked me how I was doing. I felt fine in spite of the turbulence and told him so but he made the decision that we'd better forget the flight to Clintonville and head straight for home. Accordingly, I turned us back to the south. "Looks like we're in for a rough time of it!" Steve said. "I can tell you right now this flight isn't going to be much fun." I felt his hands and feet with mine on the controls a good portion of the time. "The best thing to do in this kind of turbulence," he told me, "is just to keep the wings level." I noted he wasn't quite so concerned with holding exact heading and altitude now. All his concentration was simply on flying the plane.

Just to make our trip qualify as a dual cross-country by FAA standards with three takeoffs and three landings, he decided we'd do a touch-and-go at Waupaca. The airport soon came into view and we began our descent. By this time Steve was doing most of the flying. I just followed him lightly on the controls. Even this was difficult to do at times. As we neared the ground, the stick in front of me jerked back and forth, side to side erratically and the rudder pedals were working like crazy and Steve guided the Cub down to the hard surface of Runway 31. At last the wheels touched, though only for a few seconds. He gave it full throttle and we were climbing again in far less time than it takes to tell it. Whew! I could almost sense his relief at being away from the ground again. "Frankly, that landing was about at the edge of my limits," he told me. "I'll need to change my shirt when we get back!" He might very well have been sweating but my teeth were chattering. The sun had become obscured by clouds and, let me tell you, it was cold! My muscles soon grew tense with it. That lever labelled "Cabin Heat" doesn't seem to do much of anything!

When our fuel indicator began to look low, Steve had me switch on the fuel lever to allow the fuel in the wings to flow down and replace the empty space in the tank up front. Soon the gas gauge rose to a much more comfortable level. Now there was nothing to do but hang on and do our best to stick to our course--and keep and eye out for other traffic. You wouldn't think this would be a concern on such a blustery day but there was still plenty of chatter over the radio indicating the presence of other aircraft in spite of the wind. Steve's vigilance paid off when, just southwest of Oshkosh, he suddenly caught sight of another aircraft on a collision course with our own. No sooner had he shouted the alarm then, before I had even barely caught sight of the plane, Steve threw ours into a quick dive out of the path of the oncoming aircraft whose pilot evidently never even saw us! Wow! What a lesson in situational awareness and traffic avoidance! It's important never to let it slide even on cold and windy days!

Our house

Arun and Bethany's house

As we flew on, the air gradually smoothed out a bit, making the second half of the flight a little better than the first--but it was still cold. Our course again took us over Pickett and my house, past Arun and Bethany's house just a few miles from ours, past Rosendale, across   Hwy 151, and all the landmarks we'd flown over that morning. Approaching the wind farm, it was time to start searching for the airport. It took me a while but, sure enough, there it was--home--just as we'd left it. We flew a teardrop shaped pattern and landed on 29 on the grass. We were back at last! Whew! What a flight! 

Steve K. and Dana were glad to see us back and they, and the dogs, gave us a warm welcome. Then Steve M. filled out my logbook--a whole 2.9 hours flying time--the longest I've been up yet! In the remarks section he wrote simply "Dual X-country" then added "Very windy!" Those few words encompass a flight that was simple in some ways but in others was the most challenging flying I have ever done!

Home at last!

One of the things I learned aside from just the technical aspects of flight planning and preparation was to be flexible during the flight--constantly able to adjust and adapt as needed to changes in wind direction, course (to fly around Lake Poygan in this case, but another reason might be for weather), speed, altitude, etc. Often if one of these changes, several others are affected. I'm still getting used to that whole idea. Now about the wind...It was good for me to have the experience of flying in it and I don't regret it at all for that very reason. Still, I'm hoping for a little less next time as I'm sure Steve is also!

Even so, I think I can honestly say I didn't mind the bumpy flight. Seeing the grins on three faces still showing the delight that only the thrill of first flight can put there more than made up for the rough ride and the cold of my flight. Introducing people to this whole new and wonderful world is its own reward. To see the earth from this new dimension--the vantage point of the birds...I don't think you ever quite get over it even if you never actually learn to fly. And giving others the chance to experience this is well worth the cost! The timing for this flight could hardly have been more perfect. It was the seven-year anniversary of my own very first single-engine airplane ride, off by one day. How special! Any day in which you are able to introduce three new people to the wonderful world of flight has to be a good one!