Last flight of 2011

The weather improved today so I went early to the airport. The engine heater was on, so it only took four shots of prime, six full rotations of the prop, and it started on the first throw.

I let it idle at 1000 RPM for three minutes, then reduced, pulled the tie-down and chocks, and folded myself in. It felt good to back in the cockpit, even though it has been less than a week!

A slow taxi to let the engine warm, then a full runup -- everything checked out. I taxied to the very end of 28, applied brakes, full power, release and in no time the tail was up and we were airborne -- gotta love these cold mornings!

I climbed out and remained in the pattern. Soon we're at 2000' -- rarely are we this high up this quickly. The engine is running strong, oil pressure is good, RPMs are good, and the prop and wing are biting into cold, dense air.

I flew north towards Ephrata, letting the engine stabilize at 80 MPH, 2450 RPM. I did a few steep turns, then headed back south. The air at 2000 was smooth, but there was a strong westerly flow. When I headed west towards Willow Street my airspeed indicated 80 MPH but I was probably making 45 MPH ground speed (judging by the cars on Long Lane pulling ahead of me).

82 MPH in level flight at 2450 RPM

Speed increases a bit as the CG moves aft with less fuel. Still not bad on 3.6 GPH for an airplane and engine built in 1940!

Looking northeast towards New Holland, PA

This is Amish Country -- miles and miles of well-tended farms. The winter wheat helps provide some color in an otherwise drab winter palette of greys and browns.

Farmland east of Lancaster from 1500'

I practiced a couple of more steep turns -- cranking over about 60 degrees and watching the horizon go by. This is an honest airplane with very predictable manners. Just keep your feet active and you'll have no problem putting it exactly where you want it to go. A chandelle ended the air maneuvers and then some S-turns along Route 272 south of Lancaster. I flew back to Willow Street then tried to maintain a straight line along Long Lane westbound and needed about a 30 degree crab to hold position.

I checked the heat and the air was only marginally warmer than ambient. Oh well. My feet are starting to tell me it's time to head back.

I flew as far west as Millersville, then turned eastbound and zipped along in the strong tailwind. I tried descending but the air was very disturbed closer to the surface. The timer showed 50 minutes elapsed so it was time to return. I fought the headwinds a bit and entered the downwind for 28, extended a bit, then flew a nice steady powered descent to the grass. A smooth touchdown and I rolled up onto the taxiway and back to the hangar.

A nice morning to fly and a very nice end to flying in 2011!!

A Christmas Poem for Aeronca Pilots

'Twas the night before Christmas, and out on the ramp, Not an airplane was stirring, not even a Champ. The aircraft were fastened to tiedowns with care In hopes that come morning, they all would be there.

The fuel trucks were nestled, all snug in their spots, While peak gusts from three two zero reached 39 knots.

I sank behind the fuel desk, now finally caught up, And settled down comfortably, resting myself. When over the radio there arose such a clatter, I turned up the scanner to see what was the matter. A voice clearly heard over static and snow, Asked for clearance to land at the airport below.

He barked out his transmission so lively and quick, I could have sworn that the call sign he used was "St. Nick". Away to the window I flew like a flash, Sure that it was only Horizon's late Dash. Then he called his position, and there could be no denial, "This is St. Nicholas One and I'm turning on final."

When what to my wondering eyes should appear, A Aeronca sleigh, with eight Continental Reindeer. Cleared for the ILS, down the glideslope he came, As he passed all fixes, he called them by name: "Now Ringo! Now Tolga! Now Trini and Bacun! On Comet! On Cupid!" What pills was he takin'? Those last couple of fixes left the controllers confused, They called down to the office to give me the news.

The message they left was both urgent and dour: "When Santa lands, have him please call the tower?" He landed like silk, with the sled runners sparking, Then I heard "Exit at Charlie," and "Taxi to parking." He slowed to a taxi and exited Three-Two, As he came down the taxiway the sleighbells' jingle grew.

He stepped out of the sleigh, but before he could talk, I had run out to him with my best set of chocks. He was dressed all in fur, which was covered with frost And his beard was all blackened from Rotax Reindeer exhaust. His breath smelled like Marvel Mystery peppermint, gone slightly stale, And he puffed on a pipe, but he didn't inhale.

His cheeks were all rosy and jiggled like jelly, His boots were as black as a cropduster's belly. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old fool, And he kindly informed me that he needed some fuel.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his toes, Let me know he was desperate to powder his nose. I spoke not a word, but went straight to my work, And I filled up the sleigh, but I spilled like a jerk. He came out of the restroom with a sigh of relief, And then picked up a phone for a Flight Service brief.

And I thought as he silently scribed in his log, That with Rudolph, he could land in an eighth-mile fog. Next, he completed his pre-flight, from the front to the rear, Then he put on his headset, and I heard him yell, "Clear!" And laying a finger on his push-to-talk, He called up the tower for his clearance and squawk. "After departure fly heading three two zero," the tower called forth, "And watch for a Chief inbound from the North."

Then I heard him proclaim, as he climbed thru the night, "Merry Christmas to all! I have the Aeronca in sight." -Author unknown-

Checklists and Runups

"Use of checklist" is an item on all Practical Test Standards. It should be, as we all forget things and checklists help us remember items that may inconvience us, damage the airplane, or kill us.

However there are a variety of ways to use a checklist. (long academic article here: http://ti.arc.nasa.gov/m/profile/adegani/Cockpit%20Checklists.pdf)

I was taught the read-say-do method, but that was rather quickly ignored after the runup.

In rentals no one ever said, "Please don't run that engine on the ground for extended periods..."

It was only after I started hanging around and flying with owners that I learned about maintenance costs and breakdown causes. I received my HP endorsement from a very capable instructor and we spent considerable time on the ground talking about the engine and related systems. The light bulb went off and I started listening more, asking more questions (I've been blessed with a couple of very helpful, long time A&P-IAs who were willing to answer), reading more and learning more about powerplants.

Now that I'm an owner of an antique, I have an intense interest in the engine. I've assisted with annuals, helped remove the engine, and even produced some of the simpler parts that are no longer made. All this changed my perspective about these engines and how they should be run.

So, my new teaching method is to sit with the student in the airplane with the engine OFF and walk through the hows and the ways of a runup before the key is in the ignition: Why do we do a mag check? What are we looking for when we pull the prop knob back?

Of course very few absorb all this. But the key learning point is there is a why to each checklist item. After a few dozen startups and runups they get it, and move through the process with alacrity.

I also teach students a flow approach in simple trainers. The checklist is used to check, not direct. The checklist is in one hand, the eyes and finger are waving across the panel in an orderly fashion. The checklist portion is read and confirms what was checked in the flow.

This approach inculcates a sense of responsibility in the pilot. Read then do absolves the students of the need to memorize and learn what he's checking and why. Check, do, and review makes sense because the checklist becomes what it should be: a check list.

In addition, the read then do method is simply too slow for emergency procedures, which is when doing the right thing in the right order is most critical (and there's little or no time to pull and read the checklist).

So it's best to drill pilot knowledge of the airplane and its systems, not over-reliance on laminated card stock.

However, this approach is not applicable to large, complex systems such as Nuclear Weapons (BTDT as a Crew Chief), powerplants, and certain aircraft. In those more complicated systems a read than do approach makes sense for certain operations. But not all (we didn't read a checklist as we hooked up a trailer, for example. We would do the hookup, get the tug and trailer mating done, and then read through the checklist to confirm that the process was completed correctly).

Cessna 15xs, Piper PA-28s, and even Beech Bonanzas are not in this class.

I found this article by J. Mac MacClellan in Sport Aviation magazine: http://macsblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/046-050_leftseatJUNE.pdf

Long Runups

----------------------Pet Peeve Alert----------------

We SEL GA airplane fliers are behind engines that are air cooled.

Guess how much air flows through when we're sitting on the ground?

Right -- not much.

This isn't new information. The Operating Handbook for my 1940 Lycoming O-145-B2 states:

Ground Running and Warm-Up -- The LYCOMING O-145-B2 engine is an air pressure cooled engine that depends on the forward speed of the airplane to maintain proper cooling. Therefore, particular care is necessary when operating this engine on the ground. To prevent overheating, it is recommended that the following precautions be followed:

Head airplane into the wind

Avoid prolonged idling at low R.P.M. as this practice may willr esult in fouled spark plugs.

Limit ground running to 4 minutes in cold weather and to 2 minutes at temperatures above 70 F.

Note-- Engine is warm enough for take-off when the throttle can be opened without backfiring or skipping of the engine.

Now, 4 minutes is mighty quick -- it takes me that long to taxi from my hangar to the end of the runway. I have a preheater but usually take off 7 to 9 minutes after startup. Oil pressure and temps are in the green but that's not much to go by.

With larger engines (IO-470/520/540) I will wait until oil temps are in the green, which might take a couple more minutes. I never idle below 800 RPM unless I'm stopping on the taxiway or doing an engine idle check (a new one for the checklist -- make sure the engine doesn't die when you pull the throttle all the way to idle).

Afternoon Haze (12/12/11)

Hazy

I left work early yesterday afternoon so I could stop by the hangar. The winds were light so I decided to go for a quick flight. She started right up and I had the airport to myself, except for the Power Line Helicopter crew flying in from somewhere with a lineman sitting on a strut swinging his legs...

I added power, let the tail lift on its own, became airborne around 40 MPH, leveled out until speed reached 60, then established a climb. I remained in the pattern until satisfied the engine was running fine, then headed east over Amish country.

Nearly level with a cell tower

Looking West

Amish country east of Lancaster

I climbed to 2000' to see where the haze layer ended, and I was just above it 1600' above the ground. The sky was brilliantly clear just above. But below me the land was covered in a thin, milky soup. I reached for the carb heat and left it on for a minute.

I tried a chandelle, then some steep turns. Then I slowed way down to 40 MPH with about 1400 RPM. It felt like i was hovering in space. I pulled power to idle and held the nose high and had the tiniest stall break -- these wings act like a parachute.

With the engine warm I decided to head back down and do some low-level flight over the wide open farmland north and south of Route 30 east of Lancaster's tourist traps and shopping plazas. The Amish have held onto this land and kept it in good order. Most of the fields are still green with winter wheat.

I zoomed across the green fields and enjoyed the sensation of speed low flight provides. I turned right and headed west into the sun, climbing to be back at 1100' over Strasburg. I flew over our old house in West Lampeter looking as it did when we built it in 1996, save for the addition of a very nice playset in the back yard and the removal of a few trees.

The clock was ticking and I still had plenty of work to do before my 830 PM international phone call. I pushed the nose over and headed north to join the pattern at Smoketown. It was quiet so I turned continuous base to final with an aggressive slip. I touched down gently on the grass on three points. It felt god so I taxied around for one more lap. The second touchdown was better with less speed and float.

I put te airplane away and pulled off the cowling to clean up the fine spray of oil. My guess is the seals are finally setting into place as there is less today than on previous flights. We'll see.

Pay Attention

I fly out of a VFR, non-towered field. I had a lesson scheduled and after 30 minutes of fiddling could not get the radio or intercom working.

We were going to work on pattern ops, with my student tasked with flying the length of the runway first 10' AGL, then 5' AGL, etc to help him get the sight picture while maintaining centerline.

There were a few birds flying but it wasn't inordinately busy. So I grabbed the handheld and we taxied out.

The first few circuits we fit into the traffic with no problems. On about the fifth we were on short final when I heard a helicopter announce, "Taxing from the pad, right turn on departure..."

By now we were level over the numbers. I looked ahead and watched the helicopter drift across the grass towards the runway facing runway heading (in other words, back towards the traffic)...

"My airplane."

I yanked the power and held the nose up. By now we were midway down the 2400' strip. Sure enough, the chopper drifted right across the runway as it climbed, tail facing us, then turned right. I planted it and we stopped in time, but had we continued the planned go around, it would have been very close.

Now, I understand the risks of flying NORDO or with weak radios, and after that we did two more and I called it a day.

But, a right turn over the runway, tail boom facing traffic?? Really?

Sunday Morning Flight (12/11/11)

Friday I logged a little over 2 hours. Yesterday was a breezy day and we had lots of errands to run.

A look over the Aviation Weather Site confirmed perfect VFR weather ahead on Sunday and Monday. I set the alarm for 0530 and laid out clothes and stuff to return to the hangar.

I rose before the alarm, checked the weather, had a quick breakfast with Janet, and headed the truck east on Route 283. The eastern sky was violet, flags were mostly limp, and the moon hung full and bright a few degrees above the horizon in the western sky behind me. There was little traffic on the road and soon I was pulling up to my hangar.

Early morning drive on Route 283 west of Lancaster

Moon above Mt Sidney Road Bridge (just west of the departure end of runway 28) at 0650 AM

 A truck was parked where the balloon guys usually park -- are they out already? Dedication!

The cowling is warm -- gotta love this engine heater! I setup the cockpit, open the doors, and pull out he cold airplane. The sky is lighter now, and I go through the normal startup: tail tied, chocks in, mags off, fuel on, prime 4 times, check secure, prop aroudn six full rotations. Mags hot, check secure, throw prop -- nothing.

I check that fuel is on an mags are hot, position the prop, throw it, and the engine chugs to life. Pre-heating lets it smooth out much more quickly this time than the last. Soon it's idling smoothly at 900 RPM.

I watch it a couple of minutes, pull to 650 RPM, untie the tail, pull chocks, climb in. As i taxi out the sun pops over the horizon...

I tae my time taxing down. The timer reads 8 minutes since startup. Trim to nose down (takeoff), controls free and correct, instruments go, 1700 RPM, mag drop, carb heat, idle check -- good.

Taxi to centerline then offset for a reference, hold brakes, add power -- good. Release and we're rolling.

I let the airspeed pick the tail up and soon the mains are light, then the rolling sensation is replaced with the buoyancy of flight. A glance at the tack and the oil pressure: 2400 RPM, pressure 75 PSI -- good. We're flying.

As pilots develop experience they develop paranoia. We learn that mechanical things can and will fail, often at the worst time. so we build buffers and avoid compounding risk. I avoid flying over the mountains of Pennsylvania or West Virginia at night. I avoid instrument conditions when I'm not proficient. I always have at least an hour of fuel left in the tanks. All these preferences are not rules -- there is no prohibition against night flight, the regs only require 30 minutes of fuel for day, VFR flight, and legal IFR only requires 3 approaches in the last 90 days.

So we learn that legal doesn't necessarily mean safe. Fine. All this is true except on takeoff.

During takeoff we are slow, low, and trusting ourselves to a powerplant that has been sitting in a cold, dark hangar for weeks -- perhaps months. The margin is thin until we reach a certain altitude. Which is why I spend most of my takeoff time checking for traffic and birds, glancing at the engine gauges, and looking for potential landing fields should the engine decide it's had enough.

Once I reach 600' above the ground, I will turn back if I lose power in the Chief. For other airplanes with which I am very familiar I might use 700 or 800 AGL.. Otherwise 1000' AGL is my minimum turn back altitude. Once I reach that magic spot I breathe a sigh of relief and for me the flying begins.

Lancaster from 1000' above. the moon is visible on the left.

But it's worth considering that first moment when we exchange rolling for flying. One hundred and eight years ago on the 17th of December Orville Wright felt that sensation and knew he was flying. Of course he and his brother had flown many times before, casting themselves into the wind from the peak of the tallest sand dune at  Kill Devil Hill.

But those flights were glides, tied inexorably to gravity. On the seventeenth, the brothers launched into a 20-25 knot wind. They made four flights that day, the longest covering 852 feet in 59 seconds. It was the first heavier-than-air powered airplane to make a controlled flight with a pilot aboard.

Orville Wright's first flight

 I'm sure Orville's mind was as occupied as every pilot's on takeoff: Rolling, rolling, ok -- airborne, pitch to climb, but not too much. Airspeed good? How's the engine, adjust for that gust! keep the wing down, what was that? OK, we're fine...

But that moment when we exchange rolling for flight, when we trade wheels for buoyancy is a magical moment that deserves recognition. I know few pilots who can look away from an airplane taking off. We want to watch because it still fascinates us, and we still wonder how we get away with it. Yet launch we do, despite all the possibilities...

I level off at 1400' and head west, towards home. I told Janet I'd fly over this morning. She's out walking the dogs.

Lancaster City looks cold and quiet below.

Soon I'm over route 30 and notice I've been climbing -- I'm at 1800' now. I push the nose forward and let the speed build. Ahead I see the Pennfield grain elevators. I head towards that and keep descending. Soon I'm 500' above the wide open farmland, zooming towards home.

The park near our Apartments and the walking trail. Janet's the small white line in the upper right corner of the park

I look down and see the park, and see my wife of over 30 years walking our two dogs in the cold morning sunshine. She looks up and waves. I do a couple of laps around the field and then waggle the wings before heading North, remembering the old pilot's unwritten rule to never do more than two low passes.

Mount Joy, Pennsylvania. The Pennfield grain elevators are in the center of the picture, Three Mile island plumes are on the horizon.

I head north towards Manheim and try to follow one of my bicycle routes. The winds up here are pushing me along, though, and soon I'm north of town. I turn east and fly along the Pennsylvania Turnpike before heading south.

Manheim, PA

The Furnace Hills with Berks county beyond

 I do an average Chandelle, then try a wingover. Neither is my best and I figure it's time to head back anyway. I planned an hour's flight, with 20 minutes to recover, and fifteen to drive home in time for church this morning. The timer shows 48 minutes elapsed. I push the nose down and gain speed while losing altitude. Soon I'm skimming over the farmland east of Lancaster, squinting as the sun streams through the windscreen.

Smoketown airport Runway 28 as seen from base leg

I pick out the long white buildings just east of the airport, and soon enter an extended left downwind, take a picture while on base, drop the camera and lay in an aggressive left slip, get level with the trees, aim for the grass, level off, hold it, hold it -- next the sound of wheels rolling.

That felt so good I need to go around for another. I taxi back, announce, take off, keep the pattern tight and enjoy another blade-kissing touchdown. I love landing on grass!

First December Flight

We had plans to visit Pittsburgh and watch the cuties this weekend, so I decided to take advantage of the cold, clear, calm morning and fly a bit before heading in to work.

I woke at 0530 and looked out the window. The sky was clear and showed hints of the pending dawn.I stepped outside and it was still. A check of aviationweather.gov confirmed the morning would be fine for flying, with winds eventually increasing later in the day.

Janet wished me a safe flight and I drove to Smoketown in the remnants of darkness. By the time I pulled up to the hangar the sky was lighter.

When I was young I hated getting up in the morning. One benefit of years in the Army is first a grudging acceptance, and eventually an eager expectation of the beauties and advantages of morning. Many cold nights looking out over mist-filled valleys increases he appreciation of the sun's warmth and light.


My days start early out of habit, but the promise of flight makes it easier to throw off the comforts of a warm bed and embrace the day. As I drove east I thought about the motivation required to get out of bed and drive to a cold hangar just for the privilege of hand starting a 71 year old engine and launching the attached airplane into the cold space above Lancaster County... is this worth it?

I open the hangar doors and pre-dawn twilight spills in. I scramble through the mazeof struts and tool chest and turn on the lights. The airplane sits ready as I left her after our last flight. I quickly hang the engine heater and let it work as I preflight, set up the tiedown and chocks.

I stand outside. The winds are calm, the air cold and clear. Many pilots don't fly during winter. It's work pre-heating and pulling cold tires and sometimes shoveling just to climb in and find the battery dead. Even if it starts tiny airplane engine heaters are rarely up to the task of warming a cabin hurtling through the super-cold air thousands of fight above frozen ground.

But I enjoy winter flying. I suppose a genetic predisposition to being perpetually hot helps. So does several years on flight lines in Upstate New York. But mostly I like the smooth, cold air that adds power to little airplane engines.

I feel the top of the cowl -- the heater had taken the edge off the cold soaked engine. I pull the airplane out, push it back to the tie down, drop the chocks, close the hangar doors, and get ready to start.

Five shots of prime on this cold morning should do it. Six full rotations of the prop, double check the chocks are holding the airplane in place. Check footing. Mags to hot, throw prop -- chugga, chugga, pffftt...

The engine dies. I need to get to the throttle sooner. Back through the process, throw the prop, this time she starts. I run to the cabin and slowly add throttle. Very soon the RPM climbs from 850 to 1000 and runs more evenly. I stand torso in the cockpit, legs in the prop blast and wait until it's running smooth, then pull it back to 650 RPM. I toss off the tail tie down, pull out the chocks and climb in, belt in, add throttle.

Down the taxiway -- time to decide which way to go. Winds are clam and I can take off either direction. The preferred no-wind runway is 28, but I'm alone this hour. I decide to taxi to the end of 28 to give the oil time to reach operating temperature.

I decide to try a different takeoff technique. The trim wheel is mounted in the headliner. It is marked Takeoff on the nose down side and Landing on the nose up, but neither is marked with a definite line as seen on most later models.

After a runup with the normal 25 RPM drop each side, 50 RPM drop with carb heat, free and correct, I trim one crank shy of full nose down then slowly added power. I maintain centerline with rudder and keep hands off the yoke (don't try this at home, kids).

After about 100' the tail pops up on its own. In another 150' the mains start to get light. It lifts off and flies along in ground effect. Speed increases and we start to climb at 70 MPH. I uncrank trim and establish a 60 MPH climb. The airplane climbs well in this cold, still air.

There's always a unique moment in every flight when I realize "I'm flying," and it's rarely until this point, when the world spreads out below in a flattened, concave bowl. During the takeoff run I'm too busy maintaining runway heading and climbing, watching for birds and other airplanes, and making sure the engine's running as expected. Now that I've reached a comfortable altitude I push the nose forward and enjoy the view.

Climbing out over Lancaster County at 0720 AM

I turn south towards West Lampeter. I'm short on time so can't fly over Mount Joy. I'm not sure what I want to do but finally decide to climb and do some air work at 1500' (1100' above the ground here). I level off and pull the power back to 1700 RPM. I'm flying at 60, now 50 MPH. I pull the nose up and add a bit of power -- I'm flying at 40 MPH. Power to idle and hold the nose up and a slight shudder and the nose drops gently. More power and back to 70 MPH. A couple of steep turns and thena steep spiral back down to a 500' AGL cruising altitude.

Farmland east of Strasburg, PA

I see Strasburg under the nose so head south of town over farmland about 500' above the rolling terrain at 70 MPH. It's the perfect day for low and slow. I look down on farms and horses and cattle. None notice me putting overhead.

Too soon the clock shows it's time to head back. I climb a bit to pattern altitude and land on the pavement with  a bounce. I taxi around for another pattern, and this one's not much better. Oh well, I'll practice another time.

Back to the hangar, run up to 1000 RPM as the fuel remaining in the carb burns off, then the sudden quiet as the engine dies. Mags to Off, double check fuel off, uncurl myself and climb out into the morning sunlight.

I pull the airplane back in with a length of army GP Medium tent rope hooked through the tail. It's hard work but so what?

Once in I wipe down a few drops of oil from the cowling, chock the mains, slide closed the hangar doors, and head home to face another day. On the ride home I wonder how many other morning commuters have just looked down on all this from above? Do they share my love of cold, still mornings?

1981, me, and Nuclear Weapons

I was doing research for a Homeland Security class a couple of years ago when I came across this picture:

W80 Warhead Receipt, Griffiss AFB, Rome, NY, 4622 MMS (circa 1981)

I'm behind Airman Grimord on the right (I'm holding the checklist -- I was crew chief on this op). SSG Timmerman was QA and observing (Facing camera).

I have no idea who is underneath.

This was receipt of the first W80 nuclear warhead at Griffiss AFB in 1981 for loading on the Air Launched Cruise Missile.

I'm also in this pic (my back is!)

In the distance underneath the ALCM there is a SRAM (Short Range Attack Missle) that also was nuclear armed.

Good times!

By the way -- I have no pictures from those days -- cameras weren't exactly welcome in a Nuclear Weapons Storage Area! My guess is these were declassified by the Air Force recently.

What's missing is the image of the huge mushroom cloud mural I painted on the back wall of this maintenance bay....