"Yep, the J-160 just over there."
"Gee, they were some nice soft landings! I could see you from the tent..."
"Heh, thanks....I try my best!"
It appears that I had an audience for my circuit session yesterday. I haven't been up since January, so I thought it was high time to do some landings to keep my skills even remotely up to date. It was worthwhile, as there were quite a few things out of left-field to contend with...
After taking my time to pre-flight the aircraft, I jumped in a taxied over to the run-up area. No problems there. Manny had told me that the carby heat cable had to be looked at, so I paid particular attention to the carby heat checks. The shiny brand new blob of solder on the end of it told me that it had been sorted, so I wasn't too worried.
I entered 05 on the way to 18. I could see the glider club operating, and the tug coming and going so I was prepared for the temporarily displaced threshold. A thorough self check of takeoff emergency procedures done, I switched on all lights and safety equipment then made a radio call to enter 18. It sounded a little strange in my ears. The guy in the 172 behind me radioed me to say that it was almost completely incomprehensible. I switched off the electrical equipment and asked him for a radio check. He replied that it was all fine now. Switch on the equipment again, even half of it yielded the same result. Electing to get off the runway and head back to the hangar to sort out this problem, I set about doing a U-turn and backtracked to the apron.
As I was moving across the apron, I noticed a high pitched squeal that was even audible through the headphones. I immediately thought that it was in the engine bay, but moving the throttle and changing the revs yielded no difference in sound. It wasn't until I returned to the hangar and switched off the magnetos that I worked out what it was. The electric gyro inside the turn coordinator was screaming long after the propeller had stopped doing it's thing. Hmm... I can do without a turn coordinator for a circuit session. I have the Dynon D10 as a backup, and the ball will always work regardless of the electrical situation - so I started up and returned to the runway. Before entering, I asked the aircraft that spoke to me previously for another radio check. This time it was much better - even with lights and transponder on!
By this time, there was quite a bit of traffic in the circuit and I had to wait for several minutes for a suitable opening. I could almost feel the dollars ticking away - by this time, engine had been running on and off for more than fifteen minutes and I hadn't even flown yet! I still wasn't going to fall into the trap of squeezing my way into the traffic. It's not worth the risk.
Eventually I found a spot, lined up, pushed the throttle all the way in and once again felt that wonderful feeling of acceleration. The butterflies in my belly that had been steadily building (thanks to the various setbacks) settled down as I raised the flaps and trimmed for a cruise climb.
From the picture of my track above, you'll notice that the circuits are vastly different sizes and sometimes odd shapes. This was largely thanks to the traffic density and diversity (Cessnas, gliders, Tecnams, tugs, etc.) but mostly it was because two (I'm guessing low time student pilots) insisted on flying increasingly huuuuuuge circuits! One in particular would turn base in line with the racecourse (the green shape top right corner of the above image). I considered whether to keep it tight and cut in front, but I didn't want to cause any mischief - so I followed as best as I could.
The glider and tug were operating from the grass parallel to 18. At one stage, I was mid-final when I saw the tug surge forward for takeoff. I radioed to them but received no reply. I was now in a quandary. I had plenty of space to touch-and-go, but I didn't know whether I'd catch up to them on the climb and nor could I suddenly call a full stop because I didn't want to startle the guy behind me. As I climbed, I could sense them getting slightly closer bit by bit so I then elected to turn an early-ish crosswind as they were departing straight out. *Phew*, almost-crisis averted. By the final circuit, most of the traffic had either left or finished for the day, so I could fly a relatively normal-sized one. I still had to extend downwind a bit, but at least I wasn't way out West!
Now back at the hangar, I shut down and got out to find the tug taxiing to park on the grass adjacent to me. As the tug (named "Isabelle" - and looks very much like this one) also lives in the same hangar, I gave the guys a hand to move the various aircraft out and then back into place. Of coure, Isabelle lives right in the far corner of the hangar! We had to move many planes to get it there. "It's the most difficult part of our day", says the bloke. I'd believe it - playing Aircraft Tetris is not easy!
We got chatting about the conditions and the traffic, and the earlier squeezed approach. One of the ground crew came up and complimented me on my landings - they set up a small shade marquee of to one side of the runway and have a great view of the good, bad and ugly landings. I was secretly chuffed. It was then that the glider guys asked me if I was interested in moving up to a PPL and being trained to fly the tug in the future. Apparently glider clubs right across the state are crying out for young people to replace the ageing guys and girls currently doing it.
It's certainly worth a thought for the future!
