My First Solo Cross-Country!

Lesson 33
12-5-12
3.2 hours logged
41.2 hours total recorded in logbook

It looked like the perfect day for it--mostly sunny, very little wind, temperature, a comfortable 38 degrees! Nevertheless, I called down to CubAir before heading that direction just to be sure. I didn't want to chance another disappointment like last time. I was told they were planning on me flying my solo cross-country today! So this was to be the big day at last! The flight would take me to Manitowoc Airport first, then to Dodge County Airport in Juneau, and finally back to HXF if all went as planned.

Again, I made the drive anticipation rather than nervousness. After going through the mental "gearing up" for the flight several times already, only to have it come to nothing, I found that any nervousness I might have felt had long since worn off in my eagerness to do it. I knew I was ready. It's true I still felt that bit of uncertainty that naturally accompanies doing something for the first time but I'd carefully gone over every detail I could think of well before, mentally reviewing each part of the flight, step by step. I'd asked the questions I needed to, I'd written notes to myself about the things I thought I might forget, my sectional had long since been carefully marked with my course and checkpoints, my flight log was filled out as much as it could be--I was thoroughly prepared.

So it was that I arrived at CubAir eager to be on my way. However, there was still an hour's worth of preparation to be done first. Stephen was there to help me out. First, we got the winds aloft forecast and, using this information, calculated my compass heading, the time it would take to fly each leg, and fuel burn. The wind was not really much to speak of which I was perfectly all right with! Then, it was time to pre-flight. With a bit more than the usual care, I checked each detail of control surfaces, engine compartment, landing gear, etc. as I'd been taught to be certain all was in working order. Meanwhile, Stephen filled the fuel caddy and when he returned with it, I helped him by cranking the fuel in while he held the hose up to the wing tank opening. I would need this supply to replenish the fuel burned from the forward tank in the nose. Stephen made sure I'd have all I needed plus a very healthy reserve. With this important job complete, I helped push the Cub out of the hangar. I'd already stowed my various charts, notes, logbook and other papers in the cockpit. Everything was ready.

Several times throughout the course of all this preparation, Stephen asked me if I was nervous. "No, not really," I told him. He gave me bits and pieces of last minute advice on what to do, or what not to do in this or that situation. In a final word of caution, he pointed out to me a bank of greyish-looking clouds hanging over the eastern horizon. "If those clouds end up being at your level, turn around and come back," he told me. "There's nothing that says you have to make this flight today." I nodded my understanding and, ducking under the wing, climbed in, fastened my seatbelt, arranged by papers so they would be easy to reach as I needed them, and folded my sectional carefully. Stephen, who stood nearby, took a step forward to help me close and latch the trapezoid halves of the door, then turned and walked away with the words, "Have a good flight." I took a deep breath. From this point on, I would be on my own. 

Okay...first things first. I went through the start-up checklist. "Brakes set, stick back, throttle cracked, mags hot..." "Clear!" I hollered and pushed the starter. After a few reluctant turns of the prop, the engine caught began it's reassuring throb. I put on my headset and verfied that it, and the radio were turned on and working properly. Everything was set; so, returning Stephen's wave, I taxied off in the direction of 11. Prior to entering the runway, I made sure to do the pre-takeoff instrument checks, final control checks, and run-up. Everything was looking the way it was supposed to. Taxiing into position, I transmitted with more confidence than I felt, "Hartford traffic, Cub 9721Y, departing 11, Hartford." Then I pushed the throttle to full power and at 12:05 p.m. I was on my way.

Allenton and Hwy 41

I climbed to 500 feet before exiting the pattern and then--then what? A sudden feeling of bewilderment swept over me. After so many flights consisting of time after time around the pattern even though I'd left it several times with an instructor and even once by myself, to leave the comfort of it's familiarity suddenly had me feeling lost almost before I'd even begun. For a brief moment or two I wondered what to do next but even as my mind was still trying to "figure it out", I knew enough innately to at least get the nose pointed in the general direction I wanted to go and and so I set aside my momentary perplexity and did what I knew to do. With the nose of the Cub pointing generally to the northeast, I soon began to recognize landmarks by which I quickly oriented myself. There was the tall steeple of the church in the little village of St. Lawrence which I pass on my drive to the airport. There, ahead of me was highway 41 and beside it, the town of Allenton with it's distinguishing water tower. Using this as a reference, by the time I'd reached the highway, my first checkpoint, I had established myself on the proper heading, or as close to it as possible considering the rather imprecise compass with which the Cub is equipped. I had also reached my chosen altitude of 2,000 ft. and reduced the throttle for cruise.

Leaving highway 41 behind, I felt I was really entering the unknown but I stuck to my course as best I could, keeping a close eye on my sectional and the landscape below, constantly searching for landmarks. I got a little worried when Kewaskum didn't seem to be in sight after a few minutes. This was to be my second checkpoint and my course line showed that I was supposed to fly directly over the town. Where was it? A minute later, I spotted a water tower. It was right on my course and as I flew over it and the surrounding town, I was relieved to read the name "Kewaskum" printed in bold black letters on its round dome. This was a huge boost to my confidence. I had reached my second checkpoint exactly on course.

One by one the others appeared and I carefully marked down the time as I crossed each one. When they seemed to be late in showing up, I found that, as with Kewaskum, a little patience on my part was all that was required as long as I just stuck to my course and didn't allow myself to be swayed by the temptation to turn towards something, anything, that looked like it might fit the notations on my sectional. I also kept my eye on the layer of grey clouds Stephen had pointed out to me but found them to be comfortably above my altitude.

Sheboygan powerplant just visible by the wisp of steam on the horizon.

The City of Manitowoc

Now stretching all along the eastern horizon and almost blending in with the clouds, I could see Lake Michigan. And there, on it's shore, were the distant smokestacks of a powerplant near Sheboygan. Stephen and Joe had told me I would be able to see these. To the west-northwest I could see Lake Winnebago and so, by means of looking at these big landmarks then narrowing  it down to smaller and smaller ones, I was able to judge that I was indeed still exactly on course. Everything was looking beautiful! Roads and highways lined up as they were supposed to. Power lines and railroad tracks appeared just as they were shown on the sectional. 

I had switched over to the Manitowoc radio frequency and had been listening for a while to get an idea of the traffic there. Now about ten miles out, with the city already in view ahead of me, I made my initial radio call. "Manitowoc traffic, Cub 9721Y is about 10 miles to the southwest, inbound for landing, runway 070, Manitowoc."

Now I could see the airport materializing out of the haze to the north of town. I had decided to fly over once just to get an idea of how things were situated since this airport was new to me. It's amazing how confusing things can suddenly look when landing at an airport you've never seen before. For a moment I wasn't even sure how to go about entering the pattern for 70 (which a look at the windsock confirmed would be the best choice for landing) but some quick thinking straightened things out in my mind and, descending to pattern altitude, I entered midfield left downwind announcing the fact over the radio as I did so. Turns to base and final completed the pattern and, remembering to add carb heat with the usual power reductions, I found myself coming down to meet my shadow on a runway that looked positively huge! Despite it's hard surface, the Cub touched down so lightly and gently that I barely felt it and honestly wasn't even certain when the wheels actually contacted the ground. I slowed and could've stopped in only a fraction of the runway available but I kept up a little speed to reach the taxiway, turn off, and get clear of the runway as quickly as possible. 

From here, it was as simple as finding my way over to the parking area which I'd seen during my flyover and parking the plane as near I could on the T-shaped parking place. I knew I could push it in place the rest of the way so I cut the engine and in the silence that followed, I gave a happy sigh of relief at having successfully completed the first leg of my flight with a beautiful landing at a very unfamiliar airport. I switched off the radio and pulled off the headset. Opening the door, I stretched my cramped limbs and climbed out stiffly. After putting things in order in the cockpit, I pushed the plane into position. In a row of nosewheel equipped, neutral painted Cessnas and Pipers, the little yellow Cub stuck out like a dandelion in the grass and made a very pretty picture I thought.

Then I noticed a guy coming out of the airport FBO to meet me. He carried a pair of chocks and as he drew within speaking distance, he greeted me cordially and asked where I was from. I told him. He invited me to come inside and warm up for a while. Being more than a little cold, I was glad to oblige.

Not much wind

Leaving Manitowoc Airport

Inside was another guy who invited me to help myself to coffee, fruit and granola bars, relax in the sitting area, look around in the small pilot ship or otherwise make myself at home as I chose. I looked around for a while, appreciative of the warmth with which I was greeted as well as that of the temperature inside the building. After some time, I was mostly warmed up and so decided I'd better be on my way. I walked back to the Cub and one of the guys came and took the chocks. I climbed in, buckled up, closed the door making sure it was latched and, arranging my charts once again, started up and taxied out, choosing to use runway 35 this time. The winds were light and variable and seemed now to be favoring this runway. By the time I'd completed the pre-takeoff checklist, however, it was coming from a more easterly direction, directly crosswind to my chosen runway. The sagging windsock seemed to indicate that it really didn't matter much so I decided to stick with my original decision and taxied onto the runway, pausing momentarily to collect my thoughts before pushing the throttle to full power. The takeoff was no problem and with far less uncertainty, I turned to my new heading and established myself on course for Dodge County Airport, Juneau. Arrival should be around 3:00. Between now and then all I had to do was stay on course and mark my time over checkpoints. For the time, I could relax (slightly anyway) and enjoy the beauty of the landscape passing below me. Yes, even in December, there is a certain beauty in the gold of harvested fields contrasting with the grey woods and blue water.



Everything went fine for the most part. I did allow myself to stray off course once when trying to make what I saw on the sectional agree with what I could see out my window instead of just sticking to my course and waiting as I should have done but the error wasn't too serious and so I was soon able to get back where I was supposed to be. I knew I couldn't really be lost as long as I could still see Lake Winnebago on my right and Lake Michigan on my left. I could also see highway 41 stretching away to the north almost to Oshkosh. Though miles and miles away, the way the sun hit it, it shown like a ribbon of silver.

Town of Kiel

Sheboygan Marsh

Beautiful countryside

Village of St. Cloud

Hwy 41 and Quad Graphics

Airstrip next to Quad Graphics

It wasn't too long before I reached the point where my course crossed the highway just north of Lomira, near Quad Graphics and, for the next few miles, there could be absolutely no doubt about where I was. After crossing my checkpoint at Mayville however, for the first time I wasn't exactly sure of where I was. I had made my initial call to Juneau, estimating I was about 10 miles out, and was surprised to get a reply! "Aircraft inbound to Juneau, Welcome to Dodge County!" And she gave me the wind information. But now to find the place.

Hwy 41 stretches away to the south

Quarry west of Lomira

Just after takeoff at Dodge Country-Juneau Airport

Unfortunately, I again let my natural inclination to wander from my course to look for landmarks instead of letting them appear, get the better of me and it wasn't until I reached the north edge of Lake Sinissippi that I caught the error and steered back to Juneau, now approaching from a easterly direction instead of northeasterly. After another few minutes of anxious waiting, flying in that direction, things began to make sense once again as Horicon came into view, quickly followed by Juneau and the airport. Now it was a simple matter of entering and flying the pattern. A glance at the direction the smoke billowing from some stacks in the town to the south told me that my planned use of runway 80 would still be best and I entered the downwind leg, flew base, and turned final making the appropriate announcements over the radio as I did so. In accordance with my reductions of power, the runway came up to meet me and once again, I set down with only a bit of a bump. At once, the plane was trying to veer off its straight course down the runway but quick work on the rudder pedals soon overcame this. I let it roll out a few seconds then advanced the throttle evenly and smoothly and was soon airborne and climbing over the runway. Once again, I had used only a tiny portion of the available space so that by the time flew past the terminal and hangars on the east side of the airport, I was already approaching 500 feet. My dad had come over to the airport after work  to watch me fly by and although I didn't see him, he was there watching. That was special!

Lake Sinissippi

Well with the nose already pointed in almost the right direction and Lake Sinissippi already in sight, I knew this last 15-minute leg would be easy. Already the ground below us looked familiar and it seemed the Cub knew we were headed for home. It was a beautiful time of day to be flying. The light of the setting sun behind us bathed the landscape in golden light and caused the treelines surrounding fields and lining roads to cast long shadows making a very fascinating pattern which you cannot fully appreciate except from the air.

Home in sight!

Turning final for 11.

Then, casting my eyes ahead, I realized I could already see the airport though we were still miles away! I hadn't even made my first radio call announcing our approach yet! But the light of the sun brought out the white of the hangars making them gleam and as with the highway earlier, made the runway stand out quite unmistakeably. I could even see it glint off an airplane just preparing to takeoff. I listened to its pilot announce his departure and watched him takeoff then pushed the button to make my own call: "Hartford traffic, Cub 9721Y, is about five miles to the west, inbound for landing runway 11, Hartford." I could hardly keep the growing excitment out of my voice and smiled when I heard Stephen's voice over the radio come back with the words, "Congratulations, Serena! Good job!" It was the first time I'd heard his voice since leaving HXF hours ago and it warmed me all through to hear his words. He must have stayed only long enough to know I was safely on my way in for a landing because, by the time I'd circled the airport (it sure was good to see its familiar buildings and runways!) in a standard pattern, made another good landing (this time on grass--I decided to give myself a break after two landings on concrete), and taxied up to the CubAir hangar, cutting the switches as I rolled to a stop, only Steve was there. But he stood waiting until the prop had made its final turn then stepped over as I opened the door and flashing his wide grin greeted me heartily, "Welcome to Hartford International!" I grinned right back and slowly began to disentangle myself from the plane, headset cords, charts and papers.

It was only when I climbed down stiffly and tried to walk that I realized how cold I actually was. I could barely feel my feet! Steve knew I would be cold and so as soon as the plane was safely back inside the hangar, he ushered me into the office to warm up while he filled out the paperwork which kindly included even my logbook. My hand was so stiff and numb I doubt I could've done this right then. But even as I wiggled my toes and blew on my hands to restore the feeling in them, I was smiling. Nothing could erase my happiness. Another 3.2 hours logged as pilot-in-command! It was another of those lessons which I walked away from with a skip in my step and light heart and sincere gratitude to my instructors and to God who helped me reach this point--one of those which makes the more difficult ones seemed totally worth it.

9721Y safely back home in the hangar