IFR Lesson 17 - Countdown
12/20/2007 Filed in: Flying
IFR Lesson 17 - Countdown
Test prep again. I figure that's appropriate the day before the checkride.
Today we're planning a morning flight to do some last-minute prep, and then a ground lesson later for paperwork (my favorite) and a bit of mock oral. Having obsessed over the PTS last night, it seems there's a couple of items that need some refreshing.
Me: I think I need to work on steep turns, constant airspeed climbs and descents and a couple of approaches.
CFII: Ok we'll do the VOR 18 into Shelbyville, a GPS into Murfreesboro, and the ILS into Smyrna.
We head out and I'm dismayed to see that MQY is almost overcast. It occurs to me today may be the last day where that is of terrible concern to me as a pilot. However, it's not helping for our practice this morning which is wholly dependent upon remaining VFR in the katana.
After takeoff we start with constant airspeed climbs and descents. As it turns out, I was stronger on these than I thought, probably because you're pretty much always doing constant airspeed stuff on approaches whether you realize it or not. Unconscious practice, if you will.
Moving on, steep turns. By contrast, these were considerably weaker than I would have guessed. Everything was within PTS, but barely and exceedingly ugly. It took several iterations each direction to work out the kinks, so this one was definitely worth the time spent. I finally determined my skill level flying these sufficient, at least to the extent that the DE would likely not hit me with his clipboard, and we moved on.
After finally figuring out a maneuver most private students can do their sleep, we moved on to partial panel unusual attitudes. CFII brought his game today. The first one had me baffled, at least with regard to the throttle, and it did not escape his watchful eye. I got the wings level and the airplane straightened out but I had no clue what to do with the throttle initially.
CFII: So what kind of attitude were we in?
Me: Um, not sure really.
CFII: We were way nose up and, if anything, you pulled back on the throttle a bit.
Me: Ok, let's try again.
Obviously that wasn't going to do the trick. I'm really used to having a laser focus in the attitude indicator on recovery, so I think without that I wasn't sure were to look initially. I quickly formulated a game plan consisting of altimeter, airspeed, and turn coordinator and the next few improved dramatically.
CFII: Hey, I finally found a use for lazy eights!
Glad I could help! Another review item worth its weight in minutes spent.
Now it's off to SYI for an approach. I have done this so many times now that I have the VOR 18 approach memorized and I recite it to CFII verbatim. I'm unable to reveal the full extent of my mastery, however, because there are clouds partially obscuring the airport. Finally, we are forced to break off our instrument approach because we cannot remain VFR. It's situations like these that reaffirm my belief that somewhere out there is a cosmic being laughing his ass off at all the little paradoxes he injects into our lives.
We decide to try a GPS approach into MBT and then head back into Smyrna after that. The weather is deteriorating rapidly, however, and it's getting harder and harder to avoid the clouds. Still, by some miracle of fate, there's an opening on the GPS 18 approach, and CFII directs me to fill it with our little airplane.
I switch to CTAF before beginning my approach and announce our intentions. Surprisingly, there is another VFR participant in this game, and he answers back that he's doing a bit of pattern work. He's also flying a Mooney 205. If I hadn't been so busy, I would have landed and waited for him so I could slobber all over his airplane. As it is, I have more important things to do, so I continue my approach and tell him we'll yield to traffic in the pattern.
As I'm approaching the FAF, I continue to hear his calls about the pattern. The poor guy barely has enough time to spit out his tail number before making a turn and having to start all over again. That's the draw of the Mooney.
Me: Listen to that... he's screaming around that field.
CFII grunts, and then it occurs to me that I've just accomplished another mental bandwidth milestone. Not only am I now capable of flying the approach and announcing our position on CTAF, but I can interpret other traffic in the pattern and still have enough left over to be jealous of their speed capabilities. Now that's progress!
I get down to minimums without any major flubs, we go missed, and head back to Smyrna for the last ILS 32 I'll fly before the checkride. Tis ok, it's another one I've got memorized by now, and my performance this time around bears out my ability to competently fly the approach. Note I said 'competently' and not 'magnificently' or other superlatives.
CFII wanted me to keep the glasses on down to 100 feet, but I chickened out and pulled them off at about 175. I wish I'd kept them on, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Things get hairy that close to the ground, and the needles tend to dance around like aboriginals around a sacrifice victim. I'll just let that serve as a reminder of my personal weather minimums and we'll call it lesson learned on the day.
CFII and I debrief after the lesson.
Me: (hesitant) So uh... you think I'm ready?
CFII: Oh yeah. If you don't think you're ready, you're crazy.
I replied with my standard answer that I could pass or fail on any given day. I think what bugs me about that is the lack of consistency that allows that to be a factual statement. Or it could just be pre-checkride jitters, but tomorrow at 8am we'll find out for sure.
Test prep again. I figure that's appropriate the day before the checkride.
Today we're planning a morning flight to do some last-minute prep, and then a ground lesson later for paperwork (my favorite) and a bit of mock oral. Having obsessed over the PTS last night, it seems there's a couple of items that need some refreshing.
Me: I think I need to work on steep turns, constant airspeed climbs and descents and a couple of approaches.
CFII: Ok we'll do the VOR 18 into Shelbyville, a GPS into Murfreesboro, and the ILS into Smyrna.
We head out and I'm dismayed to see that MQY is almost overcast. It occurs to me today may be the last day where that is of terrible concern to me as a pilot. However, it's not helping for our practice this morning which is wholly dependent upon remaining VFR in the katana.
After takeoff we start with constant airspeed climbs and descents. As it turns out, I was stronger on these than I thought, probably because you're pretty much always doing constant airspeed stuff on approaches whether you realize it or not. Unconscious practice, if you will.
Moving on, steep turns. By contrast, these were considerably weaker than I would have guessed. Everything was within PTS, but barely and exceedingly ugly. It took several iterations each direction to work out the kinks, so this one was definitely worth the time spent. I finally determined my skill level flying these sufficient, at least to the extent that the DE would likely not hit me with his clipboard, and we moved on.
After finally figuring out a maneuver most private students can do their sleep, we moved on to partial panel unusual attitudes. CFII brought his game today. The first one had me baffled, at least with regard to the throttle, and it did not escape his watchful eye. I got the wings level and the airplane straightened out but I had no clue what to do with the throttle initially.
CFII: So what kind of attitude were we in?
Me: Um, not sure really.
CFII: We were way nose up and, if anything, you pulled back on the throttle a bit.
Me: Ok, let's try again.
Obviously that wasn't going to do the trick. I'm really used to having a laser focus in the attitude indicator on recovery, so I think without that I wasn't sure were to look initially. I quickly formulated a game plan consisting of altimeter, airspeed, and turn coordinator and the next few improved dramatically.
CFII: Hey, I finally found a use for lazy eights!
Glad I could help! Another review item worth its weight in minutes spent.
Now it's off to SYI for an approach. I have done this so many times now that I have the VOR 18 approach memorized and I recite it to CFII verbatim. I'm unable to reveal the full extent of my mastery, however, because there are clouds partially obscuring the airport. Finally, we are forced to break off our instrument approach because we cannot remain VFR. It's situations like these that reaffirm my belief that somewhere out there is a cosmic being laughing his ass off at all the little paradoxes he injects into our lives.
We decide to try a GPS approach into MBT and then head back into Smyrna after that. The weather is deteriorating rapidly, however, and it's getting harder and harder to avoid the clouds. Still, by some miracle of fate, there's an opening on the GPS 18 approach, and CFII directs me to fill it with our little airplane.
I switch to CTAF before beginning my approach and announce our intentions. Surprisingly, there is another VFR participant in this game, and he answers back that he's doing a bit of pattern work. He's also flying a Mooney 205. If I hadn't been so busy, I would have landed and waited for him so I could slobber all over his airplane. As it is, I have more important things to do, so I continue my approach and tell him we'll yield to traffic in the pattern.
As I'm approaching the FAF, I continue to hear his calls about the pattern. The poor guy barely has enough time to spit out his tail number before making a turn and having to start all over again. That's the draw of the Mooney.
Me: Listen to that... he's screaming around that field.
CFII grunts, and then it occurs to me that I've just accomplished another mental bandwidth milestone. Not only am I now capable of flying the approach and announcing our position on CTAF, but I can interpret other traffic in the pattern and still have enough left over to be jealous of their speed capabilities. Now that's progress!
I get down to minimums without any major flubs, we go missed, and head back to Smyrna for the last ILS 32 I'll fly before the checkride. Tis ok, it's another one I've got memorized by now, and my performance this time around bears out my ability to competently fly the approach. Note I said 'competently' and not 'magnificently' or other superlatives.
CFII wanted me to keep the glasses on down to 100 feet, but I chickened out and pulled them off at about 175. I wish I'd kept them on, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Things get hairy that close to the ground, and the needles tend to dance around like aboriginals around a sacrifice victim. I'll just let that serve as a reminder of my personal weather minimums and we'll call it lesson learned on the day.
CFII and I debrief after the lesson.
Me: (hesitant) So uh... you think I'm ready?
CFII: Oh yeah. If you don't think you're ready, you're crazy.
I replied with my standard answer that I could pass or fail on any given day. I think what bugs me about that is the lack of consistency that allows that to be a factual statement. Or it could just be pre-checkride jitters, but tomorrow at 8am we'll find out for sure.