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| Volume 3, Issue 8 |
September, 2004
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I REALLY DIDN'T WANT THAT THERMAL! Glider pilots are always happy to find nice, strong thermals, because they want to stay up there. Right? Not exactly. MOST of the time they do welcome the lift, but not ALWAYS. Let me tell you about my Private Pilot Practical test. Early in the morning of Wednesday, September 22nd, I pulled up to the parking lot at our airport. Mike Rielage and his wife had just arrived too. I didn't want to be late even a second since it was Mike who first called me "Mario Late", so I tried and actually managed to open the door of my car and touch the ground with my left foot before Mike opened the door of his car. Therefore, officially, I was there BEFORE Mike, exactly at 8:00 am. The forecast for the day was great: no wind, blue skies, good thermals, warm. Dr. Jack said: no wind, blue sky, good thermals, warm. I had called the WX-BRIEF number earlier and requested the standard weather forecast: no wind, no clouds, warm. My wife looked out the window and said "I think today we'll have a nice blue sky without clouds, and may be even without wind." Result: By unanimous decision...no wind, no clouds, warm. Already at 8:00 it was warm enough, and not a single puff of white was there to be seen. We started early at around 9:00am. The airplane paperwork (N303BA), and the oral part of the exam were "acceptable", and by that I mean that Mike found a couple of things where I needed more study. I had been warned by everyone to just answer the questions and say no more, but asking me to do that is like asking a cricket to chirp just once and no more. Needless to say Mike caught me going into areas where I wasn't very proficient and started asking questions whose answer "I once knew but couldn't remember at the moment." I wasn't too happy, but I understand he subjects everyone to the same thing so I didn't feel THAT bad. Because of the absolute lack of wind, there was an eerie silence in the hangar, where Mike had set base. You could hear me grinding my teeth while doing the weight and balance calculations, and I could hear Mike's wife's walkman across the hangar. She, by the way, seeing me nervous, gave me a couple of nice words of encouragement, which I desperately needed. A couple of hours later the oral part was finished, and Mike asked me to pre-flight the plane, which I did exactly as I had been practicing in front of the mirror for two weeks. He let me do it alone while he went I-don't-know-where to see me from the distance, to verify that I actually used the checklist even when I thought nobody was watching. I wish he had been closer so he could hear me say the words "fuselage" and "empenage" and "leverage" with no more funny accent (I practiced). Time to fly, and time to make the first decision: Should we take-off on runway 09 or 27? With no wind to speak of, I decided that we would take-off on 27, so as to have a flat, open field available in case of a take-off emergency. First flight. Take-off was smooth and normal until about 250ft AGL, when Bob Currie, the tow pilot in my test, started making very tight turns and rapidly climbing and descending, surely adviced by Mike, to see if I could maintain formation behind the tow plane. At 1000ft the towplane suddenly came out of its wild temper tantrum and started flying level and steady, as if it had gotten rid of a bee that was stinging its...well, let's say that it was time for boxing the wake. Nice and easy. Slowly down through the wake...left...slowly up...center...right...slowly down...center...back up through the wake...not so far up Mario, back down easy......So?......Yes?.....Not a word from Mike. Altitude reached...check right for traffic (out loud as I had been practicing for two weeks while driving my car)...release...clearing right turn...nobody around, nobody below...head south and do a front stall...pull...pull...pull...with Mike and I in the cockpit, the plane didn't stall in the first try; I needed to do it again, this time pulling faster. Back to 45 knots...pull...pull...buffetting, no wind noise, relax back pressure...good! (I thought it was good, but again Mike was silent.) Turning stalls...start shallow bank...pull...wing starts to drop...full opposite rudder and mildly forward stick...good...again to the right...good. Behind me there was only silence, no coughing, no sneezing, no sniffling. Steep turns 48 knots left, then right, I ended the 360 degree turns heading East +1/-1 degrees (I think I did.) Now flight at minimum control speed. Full trim back and full stick back brought the speed down to 39 knots and no less. That was my minimum speed. At this point it was time to land, so I brought the plane to the pattern, did my landing check list, and landed right in the middle of the runway halfway between the cones marking 200ft. Yes! Mike finally spoke, asked a question, and I messed it up. Just about to "explain" my answer, the little angel on my shoulder pulled my ear and said "shut up!" which I took for heavenly advice. Second flight. Take-off...ready...ready...ready...200 feet!...ready...Mike asks "in which direction would you turn if I pulled the release right now?" I'd turn right! I say...300 feet...what's the story? Isn't this the rope break exercise?...the tow plane turns south placing the airport to my left. 350 feet...I suppose this is not the rope break exercise, I can relax now......BANG! ROPE BREAK SIMULATION!...Aha! He did the same to me as to Craig Bixby, but I had heard from Craig and had prepared also for that! I turned LEFT, towards the airport and did a downwind landing. Third flight. I wonder what else Mike wants to see. Take-off smooth...2000 ft release..."Find a thermal, center it and climb in it" Yesssir! I find one, start turning left, BINGO! the vario gives me a thumbs-up. In 3 minutes we have climbed to 3000 feet. "Ok. Let's land". I felt good. I had been practicing for months and it had shown. What a feeling of peace, relaxation and calm. I could start breathing easy again. "Do a slipping turn at this altitude" said Mike. Sure! No problem!...piece of cake. I didn't even try to guess why he had asked for such a maneuver, but I'd find out after just a few seconds. I decide that since there's no wind, and no other traffic, it is ok to land on runway 09. Entering the pattern, checking the list, Undercarriage down...check. Speed...check. Trim...check. Airbrakes...what the'? "Uh-oh! Your airbrakes are stuck with ice", said Mike, "what are you going to do?." Gulp! "So this is where I flunk the test" I thought. I knew this test was going too well. "This is when I pay for that time when I..." well, let's say I had a little problem in my hands. "I'll just slip the plane on final" I said to Mike. Now comes the part about not always welcoming lift. I enter base, turn, enter final, start to slip the plane, and the plane starts to CLIMB! There was a thermal over the big, flat, newly cleared field just West of the airport! Soon enough I decide that I am too high for landing, and without airbrakes no amount of slip will bring me safely down to the runway. Hoping to lose more altitude, I make a left 180 degree turn...BINGO! The vario gives me two thumbs up. I had centered the thermal perfectly. Now I have an extra 100 feet to lose. Instinctively I reach for the spoilers again to see if they've unstuck themselves. Yeah, right. Like Mike's arm has melted or something like that. I turn away from the airport about 1/2 mile, slip the plane from that far. This time it looks good. I am going to make it!..... The troublesome thermal pushes me up again, and I am too high to land. One more time...slip this baby!...Hard!!! "You're not gonna make it" said Mike with a voice that sounded like he was grining. "You're too high." He was right. "You didn't practice landing without brakes, did you?" Indeed I had not. "What do you need to do?" he asked. "Go way out" I said with a tone that hid the fact that I was actually asking "go way out?" "Ok, you can land normally now" said Mike as he let go of the spoilers. "Next month" I thought to myself. I was going to practice those landings without airbrakes and in about a month I would be ready to take the test again. I land the plane normally, already thinking of all that chocolate I was going to eat to bring me out of my depression. "Congratulations Private Pilot." said Mike. Huh??? I double check...this is September, not April. "You passed (dummy)". He didn't say "dummy" but that's exactly how I felt: "dummy". Then he said something about me maintaining control and not being in danger or something like that. I couldn't hear him well because I had Beethoven's Ninth Simphony playing in my head. ================================== I would say that besides being your ritual of initiation into that great group of people called "FAA Certified Private Glider Pilots", the practical test may also be one of the best chances you have to learn. And I mean to learn about flying, and to learn about yourself. To find where you need to work to polish your skills, and to test whether you can think clearly under moderately stressful situations. I am still practicing landing the plane, with less spoilers and more finely controlled slip everytime. And I am enjoying flying more than ever, because I can take passengers with me, for whom my success in soaring is their success, and at least one of them thinks I am "the coolest Dad in the whole world." Junior is proud of Daddy. Now I am REALLY soaring! 
Mario Lazaga Note: I want to extend my most heartfelt thanks to Nyal Williams, my recommending instructor, to Bob Currie, my tow pilot, to Mike Beckage my friend and crew for the test day, Pete Detore also for his help, to everyone who smiled happy to see me pass the test, and specially to Mike Rielage for making the point clear: "There's no such thing as too much practice". I'll never forget September 22nd, 2004. |
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