“Cessna Two Tango Alpha, position and hold on runway 31.” I looked at the seat to my right and could not believe that it was empty. For the first time in my life, I was all alone in a running airplane! Releasing the brakes and adding a little engine power, I taxied into position on the runway and waited for my takeoff clearance from the control tower.
March 11, 2010 was a beautiful spring day in Northern California, with clear skies, calm air, and a moderate breeze blowing straight down the runway. Although I expected that today would be the day of my first solo, I was still a bit surprised when my instructor asked me if I was ready to do it. I had already flown a few “patterns” (i.e. takeoffs and landings) with her that day, and I briefly considered whether I wanted to do one or two more. Nah. I was as ready as I would ever be. Now she was sitting on a park bench next to the runway, with a radio in her hand. She could watch me and listen to me, but there was nothing she could do to help me fly the plane.
“Cessna Two Tango Alpha, clear for takeoff on runway 31, right closed traffic.” Showtime! I pushed the throttle all the way in and the plane accelerated down the half mile stretch of asphalt. I felt an adrenaline rush, but surprisingly little fear. I had already flown a hundred or so patterns with my instructor, and her training had ingrained in me everything I needed to know. I double-checked the gauges to ensure that the engine was running well, waited until the airspeed indicator reached 55 knots (~65 mph), and then gently pulled the nose up. Airborne!
I continued pulling the nose up until the airspeed stabilized at the magic number of 74 knots (~90 mph), at which I gained the most altitude in the least amount of time. Just as a safe following distance on the freeway gives you greatest number of options in the event of emergency, so it is with aviation and altitude. At 500 feet above the ground, I turned to the right and looked for the safety of the runway. Got it. I turned to the right again, my right wing momentarily blocking my view of the runway, and then leveled out at 800 feet. On my left, the watery expanse of the San Francisco Bay. On my right, the runway, the city of Palo Alto, and the redwood-carpeted Santa Cruz mountains beyond. What a beautiful day!
The downwind leg provided a nice time to catch my breath. All I had to do was fly parallel to the runway, maintaining a safe distance in case my engine suddenly failed (very unlikely, but not impossible). “Cessna Two Tango Alpha, number one cleared for the option.” Back to work: I pulled out the throttle a bit and nudged down the nose to start my descent. Periodically looking back over my right shoulder at the runway behind me, I judged when I should start turning around toward it. One right turn followed by another, and then I was lined up for my final approach. I picked out my aim spot on the ground, pointed the plane straight at it, and continued pulling back the throttle until the plane slowed down to 65 knots (~80 mph). At 200 feet above the ground, I took a deep breath, loosened up my muscles, and told myself to relax. 100 feet, 50 feet, 20 feet, the runway was getting big! I gradually pulled the nose up until I was flying straight and level several feet above the runway, still slowly sinking with the engine idling. At the last moment, I flared the nose up into the air to try to stop my descent just a few inches above the surface. Oops, I flared a bit late and the plane bounced a little. I got it under control and then applied the brakes until I could safely turn off the runway. Success!
As I taxied back, I gave my instructor a thumbs up to show her that I was ready to go again. For a moment I wondered whether she would agree, and then she responded with a thumbs up. It felt really good to know that I had already flown one pattern by myself, but I still had to prove that I could do it two more times. This was no time to get complacent. The second and third patterns also went well, but I did occasionally have to wipe the sweat off my palms so that my hands wouldn’t slip off the controls. The air traffic controller congratulated me after my third landing, and then I picked up my instructor to continue the lesson. As you can see, she had been busy photographing my flying, and we posed for a few with the plane after returning to its parking spot (one of the mechanics took the picture of the two of us).
You might think that I’m now a licensed pilot, but not quite. I am legally authorized to fly by myself in a certain type of airplane (Cessna 172SP) from a certain airport (Palo Alto) during the day with excellent weather conditions, and I can only fly around the airport or go out to a specific practice area near the ocean. However, my flying club has a couple more hoops I would have to jump through before they would let me rent one of their planes without an instructor. Oh well, we’re on the verge of leaving for Hawaii, and I will continue my flight training there.
Is there anything you would like me to discuss in future flying-oriented blog posts? Any questions about the process? Are there any aspects of flight training and airplanes that have always interested you?
Cheers,
