Date & Time: Friday, 16th May, 1997, 17:20 CDT
Where: From SPX, local flight
Instruction: 0.4 hours (ground) 1.1 hours (air) - - Total 1.5 hrs. Running logbook total: 5.8 hrs
Aircraft: Cessna 172, number N1219F
Dual Instruction with Lee Simmons.

The Hooded Crusader... and around the rectangle

   Once again, the weather played its tricks, and Thursday was canceled due to a nasty line of thunderstorms that came through. In the morning, it didn't look that likely that we'd be going today either - there was mist and low ceilings. A blanket of cloud covered the area. However, by the afternoon it had cleared up quite a bit with a scattered layer at about 1500 feet, then a broken ceiling at around 4,500 feet, and the winds were pretty calm (around 5 knots, blowing perpendicular to the runway).
   So off we went. I did my best take-off so far, and managed to keep reasonably on the runway centerline as we lifted off. We had to get lined up and move quickly because there was someone just turning from downwind to base as we rolled onto the runway (we still couldn't see him - we just heard him announce his position on the radio). The air was the smoothest it had been - there was no turbulence at low altitude, and we climbed away towards Galveston Bay.
   Lee had brought the instrument hood (a view limiting device so that you only see the instruments, and not the ground outside) to give me a taste of flying solely by reference to the instruments. I did a few standard rate 180 degree turns with this, and now I know what it feels like when you can't see outside. Most aviation books have a section on this sort of thing - they tell you that when you can't see outside, your senses will lie to you. With the hood on, you can really feel that! Once the turn is established you cannot feel it at all. It feels like you are rock steady, but the DG is turning around, the turn coordinator shows a turn, the attitude indicator shows your angle of bank - but you cannot feel it. Aside from the fact that you are surrounded by a real aircraft, you may as well be on Microsoft Flight Simulator for all the information that your senses are giving you once deprived of your external view. If you try to do anything more than just the turn, then your senses lie even worse and they may even tell you that you are moving in a direction that you are not! I found that the attitude indicator (or artificial horizon) was a very useful device in telling me just what I was doing. I wouldn't like to lose it if I were an instrument-rated pilot in a mass of clouds... Incidentally, most weather-related accidents are VFR pilots wandering into IFR, and most of those are fatal? This is why you need to learn the 180 degree turn under the hood, so if you ever mistakenly wander into the clouds when not rated to do so, you can get out without losing it. (Some pilots who have got into IFR conditions who were only VFR pilots have torn their aircraft apart in their wild gyrations to get the aircraft's attitude straight and level).
   So, onto the next thing on the agenda. Flying with reference to ground objects (ie flying around rectangles and points, correcting for the wind). We descended down to 1000 feet on our way to the practise area, and we started off by doing the rectangle. To do this, you need to fly around the rectangle at the same distance from it as you go around it. It's a bit like flying around the traffic pattern, except you aren't about to try and land! To keep the same distance from the rectangle, you need to correct for the effects of the wind, and that includes in the turns. We did the rectangle, and that seemed to go pretty smoothly - the wind was blowing almost exactly perpendicular to the rectangle, so on the downwind and upwind legs, there was no need to correct whilst in transit, but in the crosswind/base legs, I needed to point the nose of the airplane into the wind so that we wouldn't get blown off our desired ground track. The high-wing Cessna seems good for this - you get a nice view of the ground, and the wing strut makes a good reference point to help indicate when you've got the aircraft going on the desired ground track.
   Turns around a point were more difficult to keep on track. The trick here is to enter the manuever with a tail wind, then go round your chosen point (which in our case was a pile of sand on a farm track below us). As you go around it, you need to vary your turn rate to keep the same ground track, to compensate for the effects of wind. As you turn across to the crosswind part of the circle, you need to increase the rate of bank to avoid being blown off course. Then as you fly to upwind, you steadily decrease the amount of bank. The next part has your shallowest bank, as the wind wants to push you towards the point you are flying around, and then the final part, you gradually increase the rate of bank, and so on. The first time you do it, it seems pretty hard to judge just how much you need to bank to stay on track!
   After this, it was time to head back to the house. This time, whilst doing the approach, I could see in my peripheral vision that Lee had his hands nowhere near the yoke! But I was tracking the centerline well, and coming in to land. This time I flared at the correct height above the runway, but I overcooked it and we went up a few feet. Lee helped me correct...it would have been a hard landing otherwise!

Conclusions.
   If you haven't tried any hood work yet, try some soon. It's interesting to experience what the books say happen. Your senses really do lie (I remember having quite a long argument with a non-pilot friend of mine some time ago after seeing a TV program about a 737 which went down on a moonless night after the pilot's attitude indicator started working erratically - he was convinced that "a good pilot would be able to feel the rate of bank etc." - but that just isn't true. Still, had the pilot of that aircraft realised that the AI was not working correctly, he could of used other instruments to give him a good idea about what the aircraft was doing - but he didn't, so they crashed. I'm not the NTSB, so don't take my word for it, alright!)
   The flaring is tricky! But I'll get it sooner or later... Lee even said I've been making good progress to date, so that's some good encouragement. Turning around a point will need more practise, but then again, it was the first time I had ever done it.

So...what was learned this time?
   How to get out of IMC if somehow I end up in the clouds (just thinking about it tells me that most of these VFR into IMC incidents probably happens on moonless nights, when the pilot doesn't see the cloud until he gets so close that it can't be avoided) - I'm sure we'll be doing a bit more hood work as we go along.
   The wind has a surprising effect on your ground track, even though it wasn't too strong today. Lee has a good acronym for this sort of work - RAT: Reference, Altitude, Traffic. Monitor all three and you'll do good. (Another thing to remember is that nothing inside the aircraft will hurt you - it's all out there, so watching the traffic is very important).
   I need to work on the flare...

Date & Time: Saturday, 17th May, 1997, 14:00 CDT
Where: From SPX, local flight
Instruction: 0.4 hours (ground) 1.1 hours (air) - - Total 1.5 hrs. Running logbook total: 6.9 hrs
Aircraft: Cessna 172, number N1219F
Dual Instruction with Lee Simmons.

Getting To The Point.
   It was a bright, sunny day today - visibility was around 20 miles. However, this means heating from below, and heating from below means turbulence! There were some towering cumulus clouds in the distance that demonstrated that the air wasn't altogether stable today. However, above about 2000 feet, the air was much calmer. The first thing we did is to revisit slow flight and arrival stalls. My slow flight was better today - I kept the altitude within 50 feet of the assigned altitude, and I also held the heading. It didn't require nearly the amount of thinking to do it today - my instrument scan has got better, and I didn't end up fixating on any one instrument to get it reading correctly whilst the others drifted off.
   We did the arrival stall a little differently today - one with full flaps (usually I would have the flaps set at 20 degrees - but this time we went for the full 40 degrees). Recovery with 40 degrees is a little different - when the stall breaks, you push in full power and remove carb heat, then immediately pull the flaps up to 20 degrees to get rid of the extra drag, and get into a shallow climb and allow airspeed to build up before removing the last 20 degrees. We also did a stall with no flaps at all, but with the power off. Recovery is to just push the throttle home and get into a shallow climb.
   The rest of my time was spent on ground reference manoevers - doing circles around the point like last time. We went to the same area, but this time did the manoever at 800 feet. I did it better this time - varying the bank angle seemed a bit more natural today, and I tracked a more or less circular path around the point (except for the one where I started too close in...we probably would have needed 60 degrees of bank at some stages if I'd kept that close in. It was also interesting to do these manoevers with a bit of turbulence thrown in for good measure (although the turbulence was less severe over the practise area, in fact it was quite mild there). As we finished up, and we started heading a little over the water at 800 feet, Lee suddenly pulled the throttle back. "Your engine has quit, what are you going to do now?" I wasn't expecting that at all, and my mind stopped for about a second, but then it came back. 65 knots! We were going at close to 100, so I could pull back and gain a little more altitude in the process, and then set up for 65 knots. The next thing to do - turn back towards dry land. The practise area has a nice road running down it which rarely has any traffic (just watch out for the odd stray cow though). Then do the engine out check, and secure the engine if it really has quit according to the checklist.
   We headed back to base. I got a bit preoccupied with where we were going, and I didn't notice we had sunk a little below traffic altitude until Lee yanked back on the yoke! I'll have to remember to keep a check on the altitude in these more turbulent conditions. My radio work was getting better, though. I think people might have understood me this time. Final approach in the turbulence was a bit ropey - it took a lot of effort to stop the tendency to head for the grass instead of the runway! We got down fine thanks to Lee just helping me a bit to keep the aircraft tracking the centerline.

Conclusion.
   Turbulence makes manoevers interesting, and final approach a challenge! Slow flight is really coming together...I even held altitude whilst extending and retracting the flaps, which has usually resulted in some bobbing up and down.

What was learned.
   RAT applies to the traffic pattern, like anywhere else...and if followed, it stops the instructor from pulling back on the yoke unexpectedly (I think I was just doing the RT without the A).
   When stalling with full flaps, get rid of 20 degrees as soon as the power is in. Anything above 20 degree flap extension is more drag than lift, so it won't help your recovery if you leave it there.
   On final approach, use the rudder to keep the aircraft pointed in the desired direction, and use the ailerons to move the aircraft side to side (slipping the aircraft). In fact, it seems there's a bit of mixed opinions - some pilots prefer to crab to land, then kick the airplane straight just before touchdown.