Sometimes the Numbers Do Lie

I rang the Automated Weather Information Service (AWIS) before I left home. The numbers quoted by the well-spoken computer man were nothing out of the ordinary – winds from the North at around nineteen knots and skies clear below FL120. Not too bad for what I had to do today – a mock pilot certificate flight test. I have been learning to fly since Winter last year, and am now getting to the pointy end of my training. With theory exams complete, all that is left to do is to demonstrate to an assessor that I can safely fly the aircraft.

When I pulled up at the hangar, I noticed that my instructor (Manny) was conducting some check circuits to assess the conditions. This filled me with hope that we were going ahead with the lesson and the mock test – until I saw him wrestling the aircraft with the crosswind along the taxiway. As he got out, he mentioned how bumpy it was in the circuit and that we’d sit down and discuss what to expect in the test and re-assess the conditions a little later.

We spoke for half an hour, going through and brushing up on various scenarios to expect in the test – engine failure after takeoff, at cruise, etc. During that time, we were both aware of the wind which was constantly changing and gusting. It seemed that there might be a bit of a let-up in the ferocity of the wind, so we pushed the plane out and started the checks.
Manny called the AWIS again, which was saying winds variable between 350 and 000 degrees magnetic at 19 knots. I said that those numbers didn’t sound so bad, and we had flown in similarly windy conditions before. Plus, we were already in the running aircraft so why don’t we at least do one circuit. I gingerly taxied the Jabiru out to the runup bay next to runway 36 and completed the final checks. Sitting still, the ASI was already indicating a speed so I opted for reduced flap for takeoff.

6 Minutes of Hell:

The takeoff was fine. Climb out happened fairly cleanly, but a little bit of crab was needed to prevent tracking off runway alignment – all pretty normal, there was obviously a bit of crosswind at the time. The true nature of the winds started at about 200 feet. After raising what little flap was down, the aircraft was hit by the mechanical turbulence caused by the nearby hills and trees. It rolled to the left and dropped a little bit. I was fighting the controls to keep it on track. I went to turn crosswind at 500’, but Manny advised extending upwind to around 700’ so I could still fly a rectangular circuit.

Crosswind was bumpy, but not too bad. Trying to turn downwind felt nearly impossible! The nose just wouldn’t come around. A heck of a lot more rudder and a bit more bank angle got it around, but the whole time I was fighting to keep the upwards wing from rising too much.

The downwind leg was over in a flash, due to the 120’ish knot ground speed we were doing with that howling tailwind! I just managed to get my pre-landing checks done and a radio call for Base, which took up valuable seconds as we sailed past where I should have turned.

The base leg was a similar story to the crosswind leg. Very difficult to get the nose to come around – which made me resort to something I have read a lot about in my flying manuals: I looked down to judge the turn. There are countless articles around why you shouldn’t do that, but in the ‘heat of the moment’ I completely forgot that and did it anyway! Thankfully, I managed to get the aircraft safely around and on to final.

Back when I was learning how to land, Manny would have a little ritual before each of my attempts. As I established the aircraft on final, he would sit up straight, stretch his legs out on to the rudder pedals and place his hands on top of his thighs – ready to take over in the event of a major stuff up by me. However, as time passed, I noticed he had been doing this less and less – to the point now that he hardly moves at all. So this time, when he did the full ritual, I was a little worried. It was bumpy coming down, and I was wrangling the aircraft back on to the centreline when Manny offered “Would you like me to take over?”
“I think I’ve got this”, I said – although even I had my doubts!

I had been blown down a bit further than I wanted to, and I ended up a bit low and a bit far out on final. This didn’t worry me too much, as I opted to use very little flap and thus a flatter approach profile - as long as I kept the power up to counter the headwind! The airspeed crept up a little, so I was about five knots faster than I wanted to be. I raised the nose a little and reduced the power a bit which seemed to help, but we were coming in ‘a little hot’ as they say in the classics.

Just before we got to the fence, I said “I’m aiming a little long on the runway, so I have a bit of a buffer in case of a big gust”. With that, I noticed Manny relax somewhat. Little did I know that the hangers to our left cause terrible mechanical turbulence and can bring people unstuck during the flare and hold-off. If I had have aimed for the piano keys or the numbers, we might have been cleaning up broken runway perimeter lights!

Over the fence.

I reduced the throttle slowly to idle, straightened the nose from the crab and dipped the upwind wing – Manny still ready to take over at any moment. Waiting....waiting....waiting – picturing in my head the upwind wheel. Success. To my absolute surprise, I had the softest touch-down I have ever had!
Somewhat relieved, I taxied back to the hangar, shut down and pushed it back inside. For the next hour, we sat and discussed what we’d just experienced.

Lessons Learned.

While the numbers were similar to the last windy day we flew in, the actual conditions were much worse. In a way, I am disappointed that I continued on – even though I knew it was going to be challenging conditions. In a short time, I’m hoping to be passing my flying exam – part of which is showing that one can act as pilot in command and know when conditions are not right to fly. It was good to experience flight on the fringe of comfortable conditions with an experienced instructor looking over my shoulder. I now know where to draw the line. It was an expensive six minute flight, but I now think it was worth it. Sometimes the numbers do lie.