So, after several weeks of horrendous winds, I was feeling hopeful of going up this weekend. And then, midweek, Cyclone Freidhelm (or to use the charming name bestowed on it by the Scottish Twitter community, Hurricane Bawbag) blew in, battering Scotland and Northern England. Although I hadn't pinned my hopes on finally going up this weekend, I kept checking the weather and found it improving. Finally, with me due to leave the house and drive to the airport, I called the flying school to check if I was actually going up.
"Well, there's some heavy snow coming in. Tell you what, call back in half an hour and we'll have a better idea then."
Half an hour and a quick phone call later, I was off to the airport. Getting out of the car, I felt the wind pick up again. It was a fleeting gust though, and before long I found myself being ushered... into an office. Sitting in front of a whiteboard, my instructor started drawing things and talking about them; I could tell that this wasn't going to be another pootling about the sky looking at the scenery lesson. Having only used the control column before, I was suddenly hearing other controls mentioned. Thankfully, I'd been doing some reading, so the instructor wasn't suddenly hitting me with too much new information. The one bit of new information that I hadn't expected was the bit about how the lesson was going to go: "I'll do the radio, you're going to do everything else" was the gist of it.
And so we walked out to the aircraft. Sorry, make that my aircraft - I did say in the post about the last lesson that I would claim ownership if I got the same one three times running.
Sitting in the left hand seat, the next thing I knew, I was being given a book. A book? I'm here to fly, not to read!
OK, so not just any book. This was the aircraft checklist, which takes the pilot through what they need to be doing at various stages. The crew of the next commercial flight you take will probably be using one, which you can take in one of two ways. Either "Oh, that's good. They're being thorough, and making sure that nothing's missed out." or alternatively "They have to look at a book to fly this thing? I thought they were qualified? Let me off!".
Going through the checklist, it felt as if we were on the ground for an absolute age, and it's only when you see it all written down you realise how much stuff is checked before the engine's even started. Just for my little Cessna, there are 20 steps from the time you enter the aircraft until getting the engine started (not including the three pages of external checks, which my instructor had already carried out). This is followed by another 39 steps after starting the engine, but before taking off!
And so, having checked (and double checked) an awful lot of things, we were finally ready to take off. The checklist got stowed (by which I mean chucked in the luggage space behind the seats), and we were heading onto the runway. Specifically, I was heading onto the runway. I was steering the thing. And then I did the takeoff. This wasn't new; I'd been present for two takeoffs in the same aircraft, only this time I wasn't merely sitting back as someone else did it. Frankly, if you asked me how the takeoff went, I couldn't tell you. Everything was a blur, but as take off doesn't get formally taught until much later in the syllabus, I'm not too upset about that.
As in my last lesson, we headed for the city centre first; there are some great landmarks for when you're learning to fly visually. Then we headed South for a change. The weather wasn't great - the cloud was quite low in places, and it wasn't long before I discovered that planes don't have windscreen wipers. Although we got blown about a bit, it wasn't as bad as my second lesson, and having had a good word with myself after that one, I didn't get too worked up about it. We got to where were going... and spent the next 40 minutes flying in circles.
Why flying in circles? Well, this lesson was about the controls rather than the previous two which have been about getting a general feel for the aircraft. Starting with the control column - I thought I'd got this one nailed, but my pre-lesson reading had told me that the controls have several effects; pull the column back, and you climb, but also start to go more slowly. That sort of thing.
One might think that flying in circles for 40 minutes would get dull, but the things I was learning about were coming so thick and fast that the scenery barely got a look in. It wasn't until I looked at my watch that I realised how long I'd been there.
On the way back, progress was slow; there was quite a headwind, although it was fairly steady so we didn't get blown about too much. Looking over to my left, it was amazing to see how a certain type of weather can suddenly stop - there was a clearly visible line between a rain shower and a patch of glorious sunshine, something you don't get to see from ground level.
We flew across the city again, and approached the airport. More checks (also in the checklist) before we landed. My instructor handled the landing, leaving me to get the aircraft back to where we would park it.
Now, here's the interesting bit: the control column does nothing on the ground - when you're taxying, it's all done with your feet. I had a disconcerting moment as I tried to turn with what my brain was now convinced was a steering wheel, but soon got the hang of steering with my hands resting on my lap.
Pulling up to where we going to park (with me almost forgetting that I was steering something a tad wider than a car, and the instructor having to steer me away from another plane that I was about to clip with a wingtip), we came to a stop. And got the checklist out again. Yes, there's even checks for shutting the thing down.
All in all, a great lesson. Now to go and read that bit of the training manual again, and start reading up for the next one!
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