Walking on the Moon

One of the joys of a private pilot’s license is finding and visiting the unusual businesses sited at small airports. Today I had lunch at The Aviator Casino in Delano, CA. Delano is an interesting place – Caesar Chavez lived there when he began his unionization efforts in the 1960’s – but a small one. From what little I’ve seen of Delano, it’s an agricultural center that supports a lot of packaging and shipping. I wasn’t expecting a casino at the airport. Having a plane means I can go have a look.

The flight is fairly short at 150 kts cruise. Conditions were beautiful and clear, and not a lot of folks were out in the Central Valley. There was a fellow in the Delano pattern the whole time I was there, though.

I always like to see local aviators enshrined at their stomping grounds. Delano so honors Gerald Massey.

The casino itself is very much a casino. Inside there is a bar and small restaurant/grill and a bunch of tables. Even a gambling hub is quieter on a Sunday shortly after 11 AM, and The Aviator was no exception. There were two or three at a gaming table and another 3 at the bar. There are always a few people at the bar.

The staff was super friendly, and I chose to have a breakfast sitting at the bar. When I did stick my head into the eating area, it looked more like the cafe at a sports arena or skating ring than a restaurant. That’s not surprising.

The breakfast itself was decent, but again, the focus of the place is gaming, not food. The woman behind the bar was extremely friendly, putting up with my questions and coffee intake cheerfully.

The trip back was similarly pretty but uneventful. A cool day out.

I took some time Friday afternoon to polish take-offs and landings. I rambled off to the very hospitable Chino (KCNO) airport for practice and Cable (KCCB) for lunch. The last time I was out doing instrument practice, a couple of my roll-outs were wobbly. My safety pilot was happy to make excuses for me, but I try to be honest with myself on these things.

Chino is a lively GA airport with a couple parallel runways and active flight schools, so they were quite able to accommodate me. I flew out of Santa Monica, where they bill you by the landing, and tucked into the pattern at Chino, where they’re free.

Chino is home to at least two air museums: Planes of Fame and Yanks. I mention it both because I’m a member and supporter of Planes of Fame and I got to share the pattern with Yanks 1936 Lockheed Electra. What a beautiful plane. I took a couple pictures of it, and it’s something to see in motion.

I was trying out two things: flap use on take-off and landing roll-outs. The flap use is recommended in the Viking POH, though not by my transition instructor. The POH recommends the flaps to keep a less nose-up attitude during take-off. After trying a few, it is noticeably different and visibility is arguably better. It’s also closer to the attitude on a go-around, which seems to make that process a little safer. I got to test that when I miscalculated how long the Electra would be on the runway. I’ll keep playing with it.

The roll-outs were trickier. The Viking is squirrely enough on the ground that it’s worth keeping current with its handling. I used to be more aware of it on the take-off roll, but I’ve gotten very used to that. I think that made me more complacent on roll-out. Today’s practice got me more focused on it and my roll-outs were markedly improved.

Um, except for the one at Cable. Sigh.

Cable remains a great little uncontrolled – er, untowered – field. Maniac Mike’s seems to be undergoing a renovation. It was open, though, and I got a decent meal. Sadly the patio was closed, so I didn’t get to sit out there.

Winds were getting more variable when I got back to SMO, but the approach and landing were fine.

I had an opportunity to stop in at Camarillo Airport‘s Waypoint Cafe after doing some pattern work at San Gabriel Valley Airport (the former El Monte Airport), and I’m happy I did.

I’ve long been a fan of Camarillo Airport in general and its restaurant in particular. The airport’s community has been a thriving and vibrant one as long as I’ve been flying in SoCal. The Waypoint was always a great stop or lunch destination. Good food and weekend tri-tip barbequeues were big draws for me. A few years ago someone bought the place and the lines started getting longer. I haven’t been in a while because as Yogi says “No one goes there anymore, it’s too popular.” I figured that on a Friday the place might be slower than on a weekend.

The traffic pattern was pretty packed. That was great fun. The tower controllers were a joy to watch work. They were working probably 6-8 folks in the pattern along with transients incoming and outgoing. There was a helicopter making circuits as well. This is a lively place.

(Incidentally, San Gabriel was also hopping. Not as busy, but the controllers were conducting it all well. The hospitality and professionalism was top rate as always – as our traffic controllers so often are.)

I was wrong about the restaurant being slower. I got there around noon and there was a line. They have a counter, though and the woman running the joint – a maitre ‘d in a more pretentious place – pointed me at it when I asked about the line. It was much more a come-on-over than a we-offer-this-service tone. That welcome got warmer the longer I was there.

Incidentally, the folks waiting weren’t suffering. There were beautiful places to sit that overlook the ramp and the airplanes and complimentary refreshments. I was tempted to wait anyway.

The counter folks were super friendly and attentive. I never had an empty glass or anything else missing. The food was all delicious and the biscuit fantastic. The place was packed and everyone had time to be cheerful, helpful, and kind.

Perhaps even better, everyone else eating at the counter seemed to know everyone working behind it. That kind of community of regulars is a ringing endorsement of a restaurant – especially an airport restaurant. This is a thriving place that opened its arms to me. I’m no one special, so I expect that they do so for everyone. If you’re in the area, try it out for yourself, pilot or no.

It was sobering to return to Santa Monica. My home airport was once that vibrant (and had good food as well) but the city voters decided to use the land our community lived on for other things. That’s their right, of course, but I miss the hum.

This post is an update to my 2017 post talking about the podcasts I like.  I have a couple more to recommend.

• I Only Listen To The Mountain Goats: This has been a delight in so many ways.  Joe and John talk informally about how they create cool stuff.  One could say that these are recordings of Joseph Fink and John Darnielle in conversation about their creative process as artists. One of the reasons I’m digging this so much is that both viewpoints are true.  These are two guys and two erudite artists.  They bop between those two modes of discourse with remarkable ease and have lots of deep things to say in mundane ways and mundane things to say in deep ways.  And it’s all two guys talking in the basement.
  As a bonus,it turns out that I really like the album they’re using to frame their talks: All Hail West Texas. I expect I’ll like more Mountain Goats music as well.  I know I’ll be buying some.  They also get people to cover the songs and I’ve bought a couple of those, too.  So be warned that this podcast may make you spend money.
• Tides Of History: As Ben Edlund said: from the other side of the Corpus Callosum, I’ve been enjoying this incredible deep dive into late antiquity and early modern history. I’ve tried to listen to Patrick Wyman’s earlier podcasts and found his presentation well intentioned, but too dull for me.  He’s a history professor, after all.  What kept me keeping tabs on him is that he had (IMHO) the right idea: make this stuff accessible to people by describing it better.  He’s made his presentation into something that’s beyond accessible and into enticing.  He hooks me by grounding his – extensive – scholarship in compelling framings of the time and important concepts of the present.  He’s also become much more savvy about using the medium, too – his sound design has markedly improved, for example and he lets his enthusiasm warm his episodes without overheating them.  There’s no need for you to care about that process.  If you like history at all, try couple episodes and join me as a fan.

This holiday season Brenda and I returned to a bi-annual holiday tradition: flying my airplane back east to spend the season with our families.  Looking through my blog and old aviation pages, I see that I haven’t done one of these trips or reports in a while.

Brenda’s family moved to Frisco, TX in the Dallas metro area and mine lives outside Asheville, NC.  In the past, getting to Frisco (we technically  land in McKinney) took 2 days and a second day from Dallas to Asheville.  We usually stop first in Frisco before Christmas and spend a few days there before heading on to Asheville.  We’ve stopped in Frisco on the way back before, but we don’t always do so.

I write the reports from my perspective, and that perspective is the pilot’s perspective.  I talk much more about flying the legs than about the joys of the holiday season.  Of course, those are some of the joys of my holiday season.

This is the first year that I’ve flown Slippy on a flight this long.  Slippy is much faster, more powerful, and better equipped than my previous plane.  This trip let me work a bunch of those features out.

Santa Monica Municipal (SMO) to Phoenix Gateway (IWA)

Off we go, after loading up the luggage and finishing up our last few obligations.  Departure time is close to 8AM and my optimistic plan is to try to reach El Paso in one leg.  I chose it because El Paso is a  favorite stop from earlier trips and Slippy’s specs put it in reach under good conditions.

(Technically, that’s primarily true of a VFR leg, as instrument (IFR) flights have additional fuel and alternative airport requirements.)

I may yet make a one-hop trip to El Paso, but this was not that day.  I have both detailed performance specifications and an engine monitor that tracks fuel usage in real time.  This was one of the first times I’ve tried them out, and one of the points of this trip was to assess how reliable the tech was.

There were prevailing headwinds and by calculation and checking the real-time data, my best estimate was that we could make it to El Paso with about a half hour of fuel in the tanks.  I generally prefer more margin for error, especially when on a long leg.  I decided to divert us to Gateway airport in the Phoenix area and fuel up.  (Tuscon, which we’ll get to later, was my original diversion target, but the forecast there was for higher, gustier winds there than in the Phoenix area.)

The approach and landing were uneventful, though my radio communications were sloppy.  I wound up a little tongue-tied and I always confuse Gateway and the nearby Chandler. Sigh.

One of the key things I was testing out on this leg was how Slippy’s balance changed when I used the center tank.  Slippy has 3 tanks, one of which is a 15 gallon (1 hour) tank in the center of the aircraft, though further back than the wing tanks.  I’d studied how using that tank changed the handling characteristics, but it’s one of those things that it’s best to feel at some point.  This landing was that point, and the handling characteristics were perfectly reasonable.

One of the cool parts about this stop was sharing the pattern with a C-130.  There also seems to be an aerobatics/emergency upset school at gateway, and we saw some of their planes on the ramp.

And so we fuel up and head out.  Real fuel usage was in line with the tech’s prediction, which was also reassuring.

Phoenix Gateway (IWA) to Midland International (MAF)

Midland is another old friend on our trips.  It’s a well appointed airport that’s a short hop from our final destination in McKinney Texas.  Midland’s a great place to fill up and prepare for the transition across Dallas’s complex airspace.

This hop started by avoiding some parachute jumping south of Phoenix.  I’ve transitioned that area a few times before and knew most of the hot spots.  It was the first time Brenda heard an Air Traffic Controller refer to Eloy airport.  She asked if it was named after the alien race in H. G. Wells‘s The Time Machine. “Y” not “I”, but she is totally awesome.

In general, Western Arizona, New Mexico, and West Texas are not filled with things to see from the air.  I’ve made the trip enough that I do have some, um, unusual landmarks I like to see.

There is a huge smokestack on a building outside Winkleman AZ that I look for.  Since the last time I’ve been by, they added a huge tailings pond there.  I was surprised to see it, and I’m curious about what additional mining is doing to the area.  I googled the area to figure out what it was, and the first image returned was a picket line, so I don’t think things have been entirely smooth.

The next excellent landmark is a tethered balloon south of Demming, NM.  There’s nothing particular to it (except that you shouldn’t hit the tether).  The purpose of the thing is to take weather observations, and it’s very well marked. We’ve never got a really good picture of it, but I always love to see it.

Then we have El Paso and the beautiful Guadalupe Mountains.  I have a strange affection for these mountains, partially because they look great.  When there’s any wind out here, they can also generate a lot of turbulence, though primarily coming the other way.  That’s them above.

There are a few more things to see between El Paso and Midland, but nothing super exciting.  Even by my standards.  The approach and landing to Midland was direct and cool.  It was done in the dark, though not technically a night landing.

Midland International (MAF) to McKinney National (TKI)

Flying east in the winter features the offsetting effects of good winds and bad clocks.  Prevailing winds are usually strong and on the tail – though they were not on our first leg.  Clocks are against us, meaning that we’re generally flying into encroaching darkness.  Both of these are on display this leg.  We launched IFR on a short leg to McKinney.

The leg itself was clear and simple.  Visual conditions and smooth air all the way.

One of the interesting things about West Texas is the appearance of large wind farms for power.  At night you can’t see the windmills directly, but the farms are easy to spot.  They’re generally topped with slowly flashing red lights to warn planes and all the lights flash synchronously. It’s a striking and easy to identify feature.

The Dallas airspace is big and busy, but we were able to slide in pretty easily under instrument rules.  There was a little handoff glitch and I had some trouble picking the airport out of the city lights.  Overall things went smoothly, and we handed Slippy off to the excellent McKinney Air Center.  Brenda’s mom greeted us with takeout Chinese food and we began a great holiday stay in Frisco.

We enjoyed seeing family and spending time in town for a couple days – the Frisco Public Library is incredible.  Weather was advancing from the west, so we cut our visit back a day and set out for Asheville with the plan to come back and spend a day on the return (spoiler alert: that plan worked).

McKinney National (TKI) to Huntsville International (HSV)

Texas weather is tricky to forecast.  McKinney forecasts have probably burned me more often than any I’ve dealt with regularly, so when I saw a well-defined weather system advancing from the west, I decided we’d get out ahead of it.  There wasn’t anything forecast that would have been unflyable, but given the uncertainly I opted to get out early.

When we did leave, we had beautiful weather and clear skies.

I’d planned the route to avoid some military airspace (MOAs) along the way.  This put a northbound dogleg into our route that seemed to surprise some of the controllers.  At least two that we talked to asked why the dogleg was there.  MOAs are interesting (to pilots) because there are no restrictions on flying through them under visual rules, though you’re potentially sharing the space with some powerful playmates.  I do fly through them, but I’ve also had the experience of being politely ushered out of them in this part of the world.  It was too nice a day to worry about cutting the corner.

Huntsville is a good stop for us when flying GA.  From our perspective there are no frills, but the FBO is friendly and efficient.  We spent a few extra minutes while Brenda took care of some work via their WiFi.

I was also pleased to see another Viking on the ramp.  A search on the Viking Pilots Forum led me to the info that the plane I saw is this one.  As everyone says when they point to it, don’t try that at home.  I don’t, either, but it’ll give you some faith in the airframe.  (Yes, it’s a stock Viking in the video).

Huntsville International (HSV) to Asheville Regional (AVL)

With all that business completed, we were off to Asheville, our farthest point East.

Skies were clear and a strong tailwind shortened an already quick trip.

We zoomed over familiar terrain and aviation landmarks – I always love to know I’m passing the Choo Choo VOR outside Chattanooga.

While the mountains in the East are much lower than the ones out in the West, they’re nothing to sneeze at.  Strong winds in the air over mountainous terrain can mean tricky conditions for landing.  The weather observation in Asheville bore that out and I prepared for a landing in strong gusty winds.

I guess I should always psych myself up for landing; this was easily my best of the trip.

It was strange and wonderful to reach Asheville while it was still light, and we spent a great couple days exchanging gifts, seeing family, and eating way too many cookies.

Asheville Regional (AVL) to Greenwood-LeFlore (GWO)

The weather system that was behind us in Dallas showed no sign of wanting to head out to the Atlantic, and Monday found us getting ready to meet it along the Texas border.  I was motivated to catch it there rather than in the mountains near Asheville because it gives us a few more options and the higher terrain can make storms more intense.

But before we could meet the storms, we were off to Greenwood Airport in Mississippi. It’s another stop we’ve made before and was well placed to put us on a good line to get through the storms and fuel up before meeting them.

While Slippy doesn’t need any particular babying, I’ve been trying to keep her hangared even while traveling. She definitely got to share space with some tony friends in Asheville, which is what the image for this leg captures.

This leg also presented us with our first instrument conditions of the trip.  Asheville had a fairly low overcast – a few hundred feet – with layers of stratus forecast until we got close to GWO.  It was warm in Asheville and there was no forecast threat of icing (though ask me about icing forecasts sometime).  These conditions are my idea of fun.

Climbout was mostly interesting for the sights.  Brenda and I both find flying through clouds to be beautiful, and the layers on this leg did not disappoint.  It’s beautiful and a little eerie to be the filling in a cloud sandwich.  Try though we might, neither of us has ever really captured that experience in an image.

The rest of the hop was straightforward and enjoyable.  Especially once I saw that the outside air temperature was still well above freezing at our cruising altitude.  I distrust forecasts, but thermometers I believe. We tucked in to GWO and got ready for the most interesting leg of the trip.

Greenwood-LeFlore (GW) to McKinney National (TKI)

Greenwood seemed to be having telephone troubles.  We weren’t able to directly charge my credit card, and my cell phone couldn’t get enough coverage to file my flight plan via the Internet.  I made a phone call and both filed a flight plan and got a weather briefing the old fashioned way.

I should say a few things about how pilots – well, this pilot, anyway – prepares to proceed through forecast weather like we were going to pass through. First, the weather was a line of thunderstorms that were connected, but not terribly intense.  They were displaying predominantly moderate RADAR echos and no sign of the kind of convection that would produce a tornado or similar violent phenomenon.  The bands were well defined enough to allow me to believe that we could skirt them without entering any cells.  Slippy is very well equipped, with a feed of NEXRAD weather data.  Optimists call that feed a near-real-time feed.  I don’t, because I want to keep my understanding of its limitations in the front of my mind, but it does provide very useful information.

That’s where I begin, by reviewing what I know and what my resources are.  Then I work through the likely situations and plan actions broadly.  While one has to be ready to accommodate what the weather throws up, I find it helpful to have a menu of plans pre-loaded in my mind.  In this case, I reviewed the broad outlines of the reported storms, planning the outlines of my route through them and reminded myself that if conditions are worse than expected, backing out and landing is the plan.  There are two parts to that plan: being ready to execute it and keeping it available.  The second means keeping that worst case plan feasible – don’t get locked in without a way out.  It’s possible to fail at keeping an “out” open, but keeping it in the front of my mind helps.

I also talk to Brenda about what to expect and remind her that she gets a say.  In the immortal words of Kevin Garrison:

The first rule I have always used from the first day I was a captain, way back in the “brown hair days” is a simple one: Whoever is the most scared wins.

Garrison’s being funny (or pilot-funny), but his point is one I believe.  Brenda’s been on a lot of trips with me, and when she’s nervous, I need to at least take a second look at the world.  Besides which, we travel this way for fun; avoidably scaring any passenger is a sign of a developing accident chain.  Avoidably scaring the love of my life has considerably worse implications.

With the flight plan filed and Slippy fueled we were off.  I’d forgotten how casual departures from small southern airports can be.  In LA, it often seems like each controller needs to tweak the clearance a little and the eventual route can be dotted with small changes.  Even Asheville added a standard departure (SID). Here the clearance was basically “as filed; clear for takeoff.”  I’d forgotten how much I like that about the South.

I’m pretty sure that there are no spoilers when I say we got through the line.

Better than that, we were able to get through without any kind of incident.  There were layers of clouds to negotiate, but while picking our way through the line of storms, I was able to keep them ins sight the whole time.  The NEXRAD data was great to have, but the Mark I Eyeball  remained my primary avoidance mechanism. That’s definitely the way I like it, to the point where I’d probably begin taking an out if I lost that option.

A side effect of remaining in conditions where we could see was that we got to see.  Flying through these clouds afforded spectacular views.  Sleipnir took us near Thor‘s domain with great panache.  I spent most of the time turning the views into piloting cues, but even so the experience was memorable.

As we exited the final line, Brenda pointed out the rainbow in the second image.  As great as I think that image is, the reality of it was much more spectacular.

Trips by small plane give us chances to see the world in unique ways, and this was a great example.

And because I’m a nerd, I also have to point out that the image includes two distinct propeller shadows on the wing, which is an artifact of the digital camera scanning rate.  Cool.

The descent into McKinney was much less eventful, though we did get to spend a little more time in the clouds.  Arriving in daylight was a weird, but pleasant.

Brenda’s mom met us again and this time took us to a fabulous Italian restaurant.  Go see them if you’re in town, but expect a wait; it’s worth it.

We hung out for a day with Brenda’s family, catching up on the day we lost when we left early.  Great fun (and great movies) as always.

McKinney National (TKI) to Midland International (MAF)

This looks like just retracing the steps we took getting to Dallas, but this is technically a diversion.  I filed an IFR flight plan to El Paso, but decided not to fight questionable headwinds in getting there.  El Paso seems determined to keep us out.

Then there’s that IFR thing.  McKinney had a high overcast, and we needed to transition the DFW airspace again anyway, so IFR it was.  Beyond that, the stratus layer extended a fair ways west (at least to Abilene) and my IFR coverage philosophy is always that it’s better to have and not need than need and not have.  So I filed.

No surprises getting out.  No ice in the clouds, clear conditions on top, some rising startus, but it basically cleared as expected going west.

As we left the DFW Class B, the controllers were happy to provide us with direct clearances to our destination.  I got one early enough that I toyed with the idea of making El Paso, but eventually did decide to divert to Midland.  And the controller cleared us directly there, too.

Once the undercast cleared it was good to see all the landmarks I’d missed coming the other way.  There are a lot more windmills than before, but otherwise it remains West Texas all over.

Approach and landing to Midland was in clear skies.

During fueling we did have a small incident.  Slippy’s gas caps have both a stopper that seals the tank, and a cover flush with the wing surface.  In the process of fueling up, the line guys had a spring on one of the catches on the cover snap.  They let me know right away and I was able to bend a spring into place to hold the cap safely shut.  I doubt they did anything in particular to cause it, just time and age.

Midland International (MAF) to Tuscon International (TUS)

With the tanks buttoned up, we were off into clear blue skies.

Once again, we were out over some very empty spaces in the West.  This route took us further south than our trip out, which provided a little variety.  The mountains southwest of the Tuscon area are quite beautiful.  And Simpsons fans might be amused to know that there is a private Rancho Relaxo airport out here.

This was also the leg where I realized just how much Slippy’s weight and power make her more capable than 32169.  On this leg, we passed by the Guadelupes against a strong wind, which has always resulted in some struggle.  I’ve battled some of the strongest up- and downdrafts of my piloting experience here. With the kinds of winds we had on this leg, the drafts have been substantial.  In the Archer this means fighting by increasing the power to resist powerful downdrafts and by reducing power to keep equivalent updrafts from either overtaxing the propeller and engine or accepting a large altitude deviation.  In this area I’ve had drafts so powerful there simply wasn’t enough engine power to successfully resist a draft. It’s a kind of flying I hate, fiddling with configuration while performance becomes uncertain (meaning one assumes it to be bad).

Flying through the same area under conditions that I would have expected to cause trouble only resulted in small altitude changes.  I’d almost missed the effect until I recalled how hard I’d needed to work when I came through the area on earlier trips.  Once I realized what was going on, I was able to reduce the small excursions with small trim changes.

I’d considered Tuscon as a stopping point on the way out, but my initial destination for this leg was a smaller nearby airport, Ryan Field.  As we got closer the ATIS informed us that basically all the services were closed, so Tuscon jumped to the head of the line.

What an amazing airport!  The controllers were friendly and helpful, there were F-16’s in the pattern, a 747 on approach, and a gorgeous old terminal on the ground. I don’t know why I haven’t stopped here before, but I’m happy to have rectified that.

Tuscon International (TUS) to Santa Monica Municipal (SMO)

Our last leg home actually appears as 2 entries in my logbook, because of a misunderstanding I didn’t realize until I was in the air.  Because the gas cap cover was broken in Midland, I didn’t want the line folks at Tuscon to make it worse.  I told them that I’d open and close the covers for that reason.  Then I made 2 mistakes:

• I didn’t clarify that there were 2 covers (the stopper and the cover)
• I didn’t confirm that the stoppers were sealed before takeoff.

Because I’ve had leaking gas caps before I do look at the wings on climbout.  I saw the gas, put 2 and 2 together and headed back to TUS.  Everyone at the FBO was extremely apologetic, but honestly it wasn’t their fault at all.  I gave bad instructions and then didn’t do a complete enough walk around.  I don’t intend to let the second happen again.

The upside is that we did get to see some more of the sights at TUS.

With tanks refilled (and properly stoppered) we were off to home.  The flight was joyfully uneventful.  The last leg is always one of my favorites as I wrap myself in my familiar airspace once again.  The sights and sounds of home are easily as comforting in the air as on the ground.

We finished our trip with a night landing in clear skies at Santa Monica.

I should really confer with my friend Jeff before I write any of these capsules.  I’m frequently lukewarm on a book until I tell him about what I found out from reading it.  This is written after such a session, so I may actually be too excited about James Hamilton-Patterson’s Marked For Death.

Marked is a history of World War I aviation from a British author and perspective.  That’s an unusual one for me, as most of what I’ve read has been from the American  point of view (or from American or German participants.)  Hamilton-Patterson is very explicit that Marked is not a linear narrative of the war, but a ramble through topics about WWI aviation that interest him and that have been under-represented.  It’s an interesting set of topics, and clearly of our modern era.

He spends his time talking about how the UK bureaucracy inhibited adoption and development of aviation early in the war, some under-explicated specifics of the aircraft design, the structure of flight training, and aeromedical issues.  One gets the sense that he’s a pilot, as many of these issues are hot buttons in our fraternity.  It was a pleasure to learn more about many of them.

While I did enjoy the ramble, the lack of narrative focus did allow some of the chapters to drag.  I’m largely a motivated reader on many of these topics, and I felt the momentum flag at several points.

Overall, Hamilton-Patterson brings a fresh perspective and solid research to under reported topics in WWI aviation.

Recommended.

I’ve been meaning to post this for a while, but life intervenes.

I’ve made an odd impact (ha, ha) on the LA biking and aviation worlds.  As readers may recall, I had a pretty exciting wake turbulence encounter in a construction zone near LAX this year.  I mentioned it to Ted Rogers who runs the spectacular Biking in LA blog, and he posted it. A few weeks later, the I saw this update.

Here’s a link to the sign.

I never expected that my worst wake turbulence encounter would be on a bicycle.

I’ve been biking to work pretty regularly the last week or two, and honestly one of the highlights has been going past LAX airport.  I’m way too much of an aviation geek not to enjoy being close to the big iron. Aviation Blvd. goes right behind the runways and has bike lanes.  I get excited when I hear a jet push in the power levers and take off.

I’ll stop to watch from now on.

I was coming home Thursday night (19 May) when I heard an American Airlines jet firing up its engines and taking off.  I’m crossing behind it, and I’m assuming my face looked like Tom Cruise’s in Top Gun when he’s pacing the F-15 on his motorcycle.  Then it got windy.  I began to realize that I was moving laterally toward the curb and didn’t have enough power to stay on the road.  I hit the curb and went down hard on my side.  Folks who know my history can imagine that I was extremely concerned when my hip hit concrete (as did my helmet).  It’s not like there’s even a lot of concrete there, but evidently I’m a concrete-seeking missile. The adamantium inserts held and I rode away with road rash (contusions) and some bruises.  I did need to straighten the trucker’s handle bars.

Two very kind people did stop to make sure I was OK.  And I was delighted to tell them I was fine.  I suspect I was the most cheerful person either had seen crawl from a  bicycle wreck, but I was experiencing the simple joys of femurs bearing weight.  It’s nice to know people will stop to help a stranger.  I’m much happier I didn’t need it this time.

One woman said that she felt her car (a BMW MINI) blow right as well – “a gust of wind” she said.  “It was the jet, ” I told her and the light dawned.

Anyway, I’ll be being more careful and I expect to be biking around again Monday.  I was very stiff and sore Friday.

Of course I filed an ASARS.

I could probably skip this post and just mail Marc Zorn directly, but in case someone else wants to hear an aviation confession, here it is.

I filed a NASA ASRS form today. NASA is responsible for both space flight and for aeronautics – aviation – and one of the best ways that they address that part of their responsibilities is ASRS (pronounced a-sars), the Aviation Safety and Reporting System.  It’s a system for collecting and analyzing data about incidents in which unsafe things happen in aviation with the intent of improving overall safety. The data is largely self-reported by pilots, air traffic controllers, and other aviation professionals.  In order to get people to admit when they screw up, filing an ASRS indemnifies the reporter against FAA punishment when (loosely speaking) the incident was a genuine accident and the infraction did not result in significant damage or danger.  I had one of these today.

I took a long-ish trip this morning to work with some of Sleipnir‘s en-route systems and get some brunch at Fresno’s Chandler Executive Airport.  Slippy has a dazzling array of features to help a poor pilot cope with her complexities, and most of my time to date in her had been working practicing landing, taking off, and other activities that happen at the ends of flights.  So today I went further and spent some time on the middle phases. I practiced using the autopilot, leaning with the engine monitor, flying an IFR flight plan and some other things.

That was all interesting and fun and enlightening.  It was also apparently distracting enough that I took my feet off the rudder pedals.

Actually, now that I think about it, I know exactly when I took them off.  I was looking for a landmark and was adjusting my position relative to the higher cowling position.  Hurm.

In any case, the upshot is that when I landed, I had one foot on a steering pedal and one off.  On the ground, one generally steers an aircraft with one’s feet.  Left pedal turns left, right pedal turns right.  If a pilot has one foot on a the left pedal, and none on the right, it means they can only turn left.  This is the situation I found myself in, though I didn’t know it at the time.

Slippy lands pretty fast – touchdown is in the 80 mph range – and the runway I was landing on was one of the more narrow I’ve attempted.  So, I get her on the ground, and suddenly she jerks hard left.  And doesn’t stop doing that.  It feels like I’m countering it, but I’m not, because I haven’t realized my right foot is pushing on the floor, not the pedal.  Runway edge markings are not happy things to see when you’re not expecting them.  When they’re approaching at 80 mph, discretion is the better part of valor.

My go-around technique is not beautiful yet, but it is good enough to recover from a near-loss-of-control on the runway.  In other news, Slippy’s engine is quite powerful.

Unfortunately, I did pass through Fresno’s Class C airspace before I finished cleaning up.  That’s what I filed the ASRS about, though the controller indicated that I hadn’t caused any problem.

I did think it was bad form to go back to Fresno after basically buzzing the place. The trip to Porterville gave me enough time to work out what I’d done, and I had a great lunch.

I’ve mentioned my new airplane a couple times on here, though not as often as I probably should have.  I’ve omitted a whole saga with getting a brake leak fixed and a particularly exciting go-around caused because I let some pilot-induced oscillations get the better of me on the ground.

Today’s post is where I come clean about another facet of the aircraft and my relation to it.  I seem to have given her a name.

I haven’t named any of my previous vehicles.  Not even my beloved Archer on which I cut my aviation teeth.  I laways referred to her by her callsign or as “The Archer.”  Fanciful names were not for me.

This plane is different.  It’s quirky nature and charmed life combined in my head to form a name.  This happened without my intention – or really permission.  I slowly started thinking of her as Sleipnir.  If you’re not a comics fan or familiar with Norse mythology, that’s the name of Odin‘s eight-legged flying horse.  Sleipnir is called the best of all horses, and that’s how I think of the Viking.  It stuck in my head and it’s become the name of the plane to me.

I finally sheepishly mentioned that I’d named it to Brenda – who names all her vehicles – and she somehow improved it.  “You mean we could call her Slippy for short?”

That’s perfect.  It’s got the right light-hearted ring to it, and alludes to the slick airframe that helps Slippy go so fast.  So, Sleipnir – Slippy for short – is our new girl.  (Yeah, planes are female. That seems true to me in the same way that GNU software is green.  I don’t understand it, mind you…)