It's My Wife's Fault!

Catching the Flying Bug - My Learning to Fly Journey, Ab-initio to First Solo.

Aviation had always fascinated me, even when I was very young. My Dad learned to fly when he was a young man down at the Peninsula Aero Club, but when we children came along the flying opportunities were few and far between so I never got to fly with him. I would listen to stories of flights my Mum and Dad would take, flying to amazing places, adventures by air all over Australia.

My Aunt had also learned to fly, and she would lend me her books to read. I was well and truly hooked, but was never in the financial position to act upon it as I was studying at university or just starting out in my career. I did however, have fun with my computer flight simulator over many years - which quelled the thirst somewhat.

My chance to fly didn't come until Winter last year when my lovely Wife (Mel) had purchased two gift vouchers for scenic flights with the Ballarat Aero Club at a charity auction and gave them to me as a Christmas gift. I was very excited, but Mel wasn't that keen to go up in one of "those tiny planes" so I called the Club and asked if they would combine the value of the vouchers and convert it to a Trial Instruction Flight (TIF). They agreed, and even extended it to a whole hour!

Going up with Luke, the Club's young new instructor, in the Cessna 152 was great fun. We took off, and then Luke handed over the controls to me and proceeded to have a wonderful flight around the city of Ballarat, visiting many of the mountains nearby and even having a good look at my house. Luke showed me some of the stability features built into the design aircraft, and then some of the manoeuvres we would likely do during instruction. I had a wonderful time, but was feeling a little sad when we eventually headed back to the airfield. Luke let me fly most of the approach under his close guidance, and then stepped in the final stages to touch down gracefully on runway 18.

I was hooked.

Back in the Aero Club, Luke explained the costings of PPL and also this (new to me) RA-Aus avenue, which financially was much easier to reach. For the first time in my life the dream of flight seemed like an achievable one. I figured it was time to finally jump in and do it, but I found out that the RA instructor was away for a couple of months, so I wouldn't be able to start for a while. Oh no. So, on the internet I went to find out about other flying schools in the Ballarat area. This led me to a little school named Inbound Aviation, who operate several Jabiru aircraft. I had heard many varied things about these aircraft, some good, some not so good. I later found out that most of the not so good reviews were invariably from people who had never actually flown them!

I rang Manny, Inbound's Chief Flying Instructor, and booked another TIF with the view to decide whether I would enjoy flying these 'Ultralight' aircraft, or stick with GA. Manny trained for his Commercial Pilot’s License at a RAAF Flying Club and an RA Instructor Rating with an experienced GA/RA instructor; he has a very good eye for detail and is very safety conscious. This TIF was a little shorter, but much more about getting to know the Jabiru J-160 - which I took to like a 'duck to water' because the centrally mounted control stick was just like my joystick on the simulator! The Jabiru is a wonderful aircraft, that to me feels modern and sleek because of its composite construction and even has a Dynon D10, giving a little bit of a 'glass cockpit' feel. I explained to Manny that I have three goals:

1 - to share a flight with Mel,

2 - to finally fly with my Dad, and

3 - to fly myself to a Peninsula Aero Club air show.

Manny explained that these goals are all very achievable. Excellent!

I signed up for a RA-Aus student certificate, and with Mel's cautious blessing began my actual training a week later, which was an introduction to Ops and Effects of the various control surfaces and their secondary effects. We flew over to Mount Misery and had a closer look at the Waubra wind farm. Getting used to this light sports aeroplane being pushed around by the wind and thermals took some adjustment, but it wasn't long before I was able to achieve trimmed straight and level flight. Manny even allowed me to study from the very same books that my Aunt had used during her study, which to me was a wonderful honour.

Over the next couple of months, Manny guided me through all of the basics that I would need to eventually take off, fly a circuit and land safely - turns, descending and climbing, safety considerations, slow flight, stall recovery, radio communications, and much more. We had some weather setbacks along the way which meant that I couldn't fly for a few weeks in a row, but it didn't take long each time to get back into the groove each time. I was really looking forward to performing the takeoff myself, but Manny (quite rightly so) waited until I had all the necessary skills to confidently control the aircraft in this critical phase of flight. When Manny finally said, "Handing over" as we were sitting on the piano keys of runway 36, it was a great thrill to open the throttle all the way and feel the noise and the acceleration as we began to hurtle down the runway. I rotated at the prescribed airspeed, and was amazed to find the ground sinking away from under us. I did it!

Next was some more advanced manoeuvres, including medium level turns, intro to normal circuits, and high/low approach recovery. Then, it came time to learn how to land this thing, which was my first real stumbling block. Manny carefully explained how the nominated approach speed in this aircraft is 70 knots, the reasons why and what happens if you go too far above or below this speed. Cool, I understand this; however when it was time to fly it for myself, the feeling of the ground rushing towards me was more than a little unnerving and I had trouble thinking clearly during the flare and hold off. I worked out that 70 knots is actually about 130 km/h - much faster than I was used to travelling in a car. To combat this, I turned to the internet once again. I managed to find a video on YouTube of a J-160 circuit shot from the cockpit at about eye level, and to 'de-sensitise' myself a little from the speed, watched the short final phase over and over again while picturing myself flying each of the landings.

It worked. It worked so well, that I was able to quickly get past my apprehension (as well as the memory of those first few average landings), and move on to eventually be able to land safely and comfortably. Manny would demonstrate a near perfect circuit, and then I would try my best to replicate. He makes it look so easy.

It wasn't long before I was flying the entire circuit, and we were preparing for the unlikely event of an engine failure. I would be flying around the circuit, when Manny would pull the throttle on me and say, "Ok, you've lost your engine... What do you do?" My training drills would kick in, and before I knew it I would have set and trimmed best glide speed and then be deciding which runway (or paddock) to land on. Once Manny could see that I could handle the priorities, he'd say "Ok, you have your engine back now..." and we would continue on our merry way to another touch and go. Then, before long, Manny started mentioning the 'S' word: Solo.

It was a lovely warm afternoon with a light breeze, just before last Christmas when we were once again flying our circuits and practicing emergency procedures. Manny had been talking down the notion of going solo that day because "It's a bit thermally out there, so today is all about keeping your skills up for when the conditions are perfect for your first solo." (trying to put me off the scent). Fair enough I thought, and went on to do another couple of circuits with landings that I was happy with when Manny suddenly says "I'm going to teach you a new manoeuvre right now, it's called a Stop and Go, and it is quite often used for short field operations". Ok, I thought to myself – without even realising what was about to happen. Manny landed the aircraft and pulled up as quickly as he could safely do and then proceeded to turn around and head back to the piano keys. Once he had lined it up again, he radioed to others in the CTAF that "there would be a short delay on the runway as the student will be completing his first solo". He then unplugged his headset and said with a smile, "Pick me up over there when you're done - oh, and don't run me over!" With that, he got out, shut the door and walked off.

I was all alone.

There was no time to sit and think about it however - there were three other aircraft in the circuit. I checked that Manny was clear of the runway and opened the throttle. Wow! What an amazing difference the few kilo's of a person makes on these little planes! It took off in no time, and I felt like I was going nearly straight up! I was almost at 500 feet before the end of the runway! I turned crosswind and made my radio calls in preparation for downwind. It wasn't until after I was established on downwind and had done my pre-landing checks when I looked over at that empty seat and it struck me: there really is no one there - I am doing all of this! Up until that point I had felt relatively calm, almost feeling kind of like a robot, relying on the drills that Manny had taught me. Then my heart began to beat faster as I thought of the landing, but then I told myself that I've done this many times, it will be no different. I made my radio call for turning base, pulled on carby heat, reduced the throttle and added some flap to begin my descent.

To my surprise, I had without thinking, trimmed the aircraft to the 70 knot approach speed and the needle hardly moved. This is wonderful, I thought as I turned final. The voice of Manny was in my head with the workcycle heard by many Air Force students, "Aimpoint. Aspect. Airspeed." Over and over again. I added the final landing flap and pushed carby heat to cold. Right. I was ready for my first solo landing. There was a little bit of thermal turbulence to deal with on short final (to be expected on runway 05 as you pass over the large highway lined with trees), but that was easily dealt with by some extra rudder and aileron pressure here and there. The lighter aircraft floated a little longer in the hold off than I was used to, but after touching down on the mains, I gently lowered the nosewheel. Wow! I had done it, and nothing was broken!

I applied the brakes and turned off at the runway intersection, calling over the radio, "Clear of runway 05". Two others in the circuit replied, "Congratulations on your first solo!", so I quickly thanked them. I stopped to let Manny back in, and we taxied back to the hangar while chatting about what it was like. Adrenalin was still well and truly flowing through my veins when we pushed the plane back into the hangar. I was on cloud nine.

I have since done some more solo time, and in the near future will be moving on to the next big step: the area solo – departing the circuit and heading out to the training area and safely returning. I am really looking forward to the next phase of my training and eventually completing my pilot certificate with a few endorsements. I can then finally share this wonderful experience with my Dad after so many years of waiting, and who knows, maybe Mel might even feel safe and confident enough to come up with me in one of those 'tiny planes'. I really hope so, after all, she gave me that first TIF!

This story appeared in the April edition of Pacific Flyer Magazine.