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!