I remember doing my IMC training and struggling hard to get my head around VORs and NDBs and how to interpret the instruments to figure out where I was in relation to them. I used a program called RANT to try to figure it out and it help a bit. Now there’s an app for it – Radionav Sim – written by a friend of mine, Vincent Lambercy. It’s pretty cool and much cheaper than RANT. Well worth getting if you’re studying for an IMC or IR or just trying to learn radio navigation.
Top three checkride questions
Lets face it, tests tend to make people nervous. Your checkride is no different. From having gone through my fair share of checkrides and putting dozens of students through. I’ve seen an array of examiners and they all see to ask the same three questions, regardless of which checkride you’re taking.
Certificate/Rating Limitations
What can you do with your private pilot certificate? What can you not do? If you’re a commercial pilot without an instrument rating what can you not do? Know your limitations for each and every rating or certificate you test for. No examiner is going to give you a certificate if you don’t know what you can and cannot do.
Airworthiness
Is this aircraft airworthy? What documents must we have on board? What equipment must be working? This can be a multifaceted question, make sure the airplane has all the proper documentation and it is legible. Also all maintenance must be up to date pertaining to the type of flight to be flown. Example: Required VFR equipment (CFR 91.205)
Preflight Action
Have you done a weight and balance? Do we have enough fuel to make our destination? Any NOTAMS at our destination? For every checkride I’ve done or have seen done the examiner asks the student to plan a cross country flight. The examiner is going to make sure you’ve gone through all proper preflight action. Check NOTAMS, conduct a weight and balance and properly plan your cross country.
Have your answers ready for these questions and know where to find it in the regulations should a twist arise that you weren’t expecting. Most importantly relax and know you’ll do just fine. Checkrides are tough, but at least you already know three questions you’re guaranteed to be asked
Four checkrides in one
Checkrides happen. It’s an inevitable part of being a pilot. But knowing that doesn’t make them easier or more fun. On Saturday, I had to do four:
- JAR Single Engine Piston rating renewal. Somehow, stupidly, I had let this lapse. I can still fly N-reg aircraft on my FAA CPL but I like to keep all my ratings current so I decided to renew it.
- JAR IMC rating. This rating lets me fly G-reg aircraft in clouds in the UK. It has to be renewed with a flight test every couple of years and my rating was due to expire later this year but it made sense to renew it now because it doubles up with some of the FAA tests.
- FAA Instrument Proficiency Check. You can keep an FAA instrument rating current by performing six approaches, some holds and some tracking in actual IMC (or under the hood or in a sim) within the past six months. However, this is a pretty low standard of currency. You could fly them all in January and then do nothing until July. I don’t think you’d be very current at the end of it. My preference is to fly with an instructor or do an IPC every three to six months. That way I know I’m legal and current.
- FAA Biannual Flight Review. I passed my CPL in October 2007 so I didn’t need to do a BFR until later this year but it seemed to make sense to wrap it up with the other stuff because so much of it overlaps.
So off I went with John Page from TAA UK in N147GT to do some holds, tracking and approaches at Southend. The sneaky so-and-so had fixed it with the controllers to switch of the glideslope on my second approach so I had to revert to a localiser-only approach. It wasn’t elegant at first as I had to check the plate for the heights and so on but I made a good recovery and would have landed safely.
This is why I prefer doing checkrides with instructors because you learn something each time. Left to my own devices, I would have done a radar-vectored, auto-coupled ILS approaches and it would have been a cake walk.
Then we went off to the local area for the dreaded compass turns. I can master computers and GPS systems with manuals 500 pages thick. But a simple magnetic compass, a stopwatch and some schoolboy maths does my head in every time. Then some other VFR SEP/BFR type stuff: practice forced landings, stalls, steep turns etc.
After that, recovery from unusual attitudes. With foggles. On the back up instruments. In turbulence. My gyros toppled completely and I was nearly sick but this is good practice. It was a pleasure to get the circuit portion of the checkride over and land after nearly two hours aloft.
Then the paperwork. As Wernher von Braun said “Going to the moon is easy but the paperwork is very difficult.” (His biography was called “I aim for the stars” but some wag suggested that the subtitle should be “…but sometimes I hit London.”) Anyway, I’m back on the top line now and good to fly.
IR training – day six
Written by Alan Hoffler
Awakened at 0630 local time to the statement “it’s nice out”. Finally. So I’m up, eat my Raisin Bran, and confirm via Internet that it is indeed nice, and especially cool. Weather forecast is better than 4000 scattered along the entire route, so I’m not going to have to implement Plan C, which is so far below Plans A & B that we don’t even want to have to think about invoking it. It’s a go, and I may even be on time for once.
Get a clearance out of TIX with my “special” squawk code, vector myself over mom & dad’s house (which I can’t find because I’m too busy flying), and I’m up and gone on my way to 4500 at a soaring 750 fpm, departing 0902 local. Enjoying the fact that the sun is behind me, I spot several traffic alerts even before I get them, and also see a 360 degree “rainbow” below me with the plane’s shadow at the center. Camera won’t focus on the blur, unfortunately. Fly right over DAY and the speedway, and I follow the coast north. Seeing no clouds inland, I climb to 6500 and I’m solo, On Top. Jax ATC is by far the most impressive along my route so far. A couple of interchanges are worth sharing:
JAX: N12345, if you don’t have the traffic (same altitude and opposite direction, unconfirmed), suggest you deviate.
N12345: we’ll do that.
JAX: N12345, did you get the type and altitude of the traffic?
N12345: we’re looking… couldn’t tell the type, but he was black and white
and they call me…
JAX: Skipper 1819R, traffic 1 o’clock and two miles, indicates same altitude and direction…
N1819R: looking, no joy
JAX, a few minutes later: Skipper 1819R, traffic appears faster than you and is now no factor
N1819R: Everyone is faster than me.
JAX: Roger that.
One aircraft repeats back 1600 when cleared to 16000, and I fondly recall the first clearance I ever asked for from RDU, for two-five thousand (in a Cessna 152). I thought my CFI would fall out of the plane from laughter. They never corrected me.
I see billows from the flat layer of clouds, and see the power plant causing the ripples below the broken layer. OAT is a cool 50 degrees, a nice break from the weather I’ve had which is most un-Novemberlike. I mistake a rest area for an airport that I spent 90 seconds trying to find on my chart. JAX is broken, but I get a nice sightseeing tour, overflying the Class C at 6500. Even with a rising pressure situation, I decide to deviate to Jekyll Island to do a fly-by of our family’s next vacation destination. I find a hole and just make it through after the TFR at St. Mary’s, turn up the coast at Jekyll and fly up the beach at 1000. A big billow at the end of the island allows me to turn inland and another hole gets me on top at 4500. I am a little nervous that I won’t find one back down, but 8 miles out of JES, I am in the clear and do a 360 to let a Lear get off and have a nice crosswind landing. Call my cousin and he’s at the airport before I clear the unfueling facilities. Back with them and eat lunch, hold their boy (who is the second cutest boy I’ve seen this month), and have a nice visit. Take both flying over their house and quaint Southern genteel town, both are smitten with the flying bug, and I must depart. JES is not what I’d call a high-traffic airport. Guy greets me with great interest in where I’m from. Didn’t appear to be interested in my fine story, and I note he logs me in as “Orlando”. I am the 13th transient traffic for the month of November. Guess they’ll not get much FAA money. But fuel is only a $1.99/gallon, and I top off and get ready to go.
Get off JES at about 2:30 local time, perhaps even a little ahead of schedule. And so begins the toughest stretch of the entire journey with perhaps my worst decisions of the trip(s). First, I decided to skirt a bunch of MOAs to the south, and my route takes me over the Okefenokee Swamp. I realize about 10 minutes out that this may as well be the Sahara desert for lack of landmarks. Makes North Florida look like an urban area. I go for the better part of an hour with no buildings, roads, airports, lakes, rivers, or landmarks of any kind. I spend most of the time praying. If the engine fails here, it’ll be weeks before they find me. I make a mental note not to ever route over such terrain again, especially not with clouds that force me to fly 2500 MSL. JAX center hasn’t had me on radar the whole way, so I really have been out of the loop. Plane runs like a top, though, and when I spot the metropolis of Jasper (FL), I feel like I’m back on planet earth. Finally pick up TLH approach, and I may as well be home. See the geese going south over a lake, and I continue my own migration west. One more hurdle and poor decision to go, however. I’m now in the clear at 4500 with a tailwind giving me 100+ groundspeed, but over Lake Seminole I spot haze at my level I can’t see through. I debate briefly going on top, but weather indicates I might not be able to get back down, and even though I think I can get back to Quincy if need be, I decide to duck down. I go lower… and lower… Down to 1500 and vis would probably be reported at 6 if the MAI AWOS was working, but it’s not. Flying westward at 3:30 pm local in vis6 may as well be IFR. I can hardly see the ground. When I turn around and look behind me, vis is great, but looking ahead, I can see nothing. I am nervous and consider turning back, but recall that if I can make MAI, then I can get back at 1000 (or lower), and I’m only 5 out from MAI. Then the vis starts to improve — moisture off Lake Seminole seemed to be contributing — and even though it’s still poor, I breathe a little easier. Probably wasn’t 5 minutes, but it had me nervous. I’m leaning hard on the GPS and getting there with all 115 horses.
Cairns clears me to 1J0 advisory and cuts me loose, and I finally spot 1J0 just 5 miles out and announce downwind and land. The ground never felt so good. I stop and call my nephew with the plane running and he informs me they’re all gone and en route to me. I do another lap, and see them kicking up dust down airport road as I’m on final. After I grease on my best landing to date, I taxi over and hope Clint can take some video of a takeoff and landing, but he’s already late for kid #1’s dance practice. Sun is now peeking through clouds and spraying color of every imaginable shade my way. I take another lap and end by putting my previous landing into second place, even stopping with no harm to the brakes, tires, or plane at the one (and only) turnoff of Alpha (why do they need to name the 20 foot long and only “taxiway” on the airport?). I must hover over to fill up the gas — life is good, and I’m on cloud nine, even as the clouds are probably closing in around me at about 9 (hundred).
With a spring to my step, I start to clean up the plane, a little sad to see one-eight-one-niner-Romeo go. It’s dusk and I need the lights in the hangar, but can’t find the switch. Guy wandering the airport is no help, but says there is a guy in the other hangar who would know. I wander to find him, he tells me where the lights are, and follows that with “Who are you and why should you care?” I explain and he smiles. Got to go get the truck to get my stuff toted off and I meet the poster child for Bonifay International. A guy in a blaze orange vest walking across the tarmac with a gun slung under his arm. I am only mildly afraid, but the events of the day have prepared me well.
Back at the homestead, I’m the only adult around, so I try to interest kids in games. Kid #5 pulls our her favorite: Candyland, and when I tell her I don’t know how to play, she becomes exasperated and tells me, “you don’t know how to play ANYTHING”. Yeah, but I can fly a plane, and that’s what matters, kid.
Kid #2 forgets the dishes and restriction is moved out to age 25, kid #3 falls asleep in the floor and when he awakes at midnight, he heads for his desk to do schoolwork. I teach sis and Clint lesson one of bridge (cards), and we all hope to learn more at the vacation. In the sack at about 1, and completely wiped. 6.3 in the books.
IR training – day five
Written by Alan Hoffler
Early rise even before the alarm, a quick shower and a quick check of weather. IFR all over the place, but forecast to lift starting at 8 am. Plan the trip, file a flight plan, eat breakfast, and watch for the morning crises. Seems we’re low on cereal, and there is a small fight for the funnies section of the paper. Kid #2 notes that the dishes were not done last night and says “somebody’s in trouble”. From inside information, I know that that somebody is him, unless he cut a deal for dishes duty. Later, he is heard arguing that kid #4 was in line for next duty and not he. I leave before that was settled.
Had hoped for wheels up at 8 a.m., but we didn’t get clearance from Family Center until a quarter after, arriving at Bonifay International at 8:30+. Clouds are billowing and low, but we drag the plane out and fuel it up. Added excitement this morning was the crop duster coming in for new loads of fertilizer every 30 minutes. 2800 pounds per trip. Turbine beast has no trouble roaring out with that load. Finally get ready and call for final check of weather. Not happy with result — “VFR not recommended. Tallahassee reporting 100 overcast, and that has been amended to go through 10 a.m.” Bummer. Clint urges departure since the Skipper can’t be at TLH before then and the low layer is just fog. I’m hesitant, but we decide for me to do a few patterns since I still have yet to solo in the Skipper, and he’ll take pictures. Two laps and an astonishing 700 fpm with two centerlines, no bounces or tail strikes, several VERY good pics, and I pull off all smiles. In the 10 minutes it took to get the circuits in, the sky has gone completely clear, and I can’t imagine things could get much better. High fives, and I’m off for my first REAL cross country, complete with a one-way destination, a reason to go, and SOLO. Butterflies give way to the business at hand, and I climb out to 3500 and a GPS direct heading to MAI. Gainesville Flight Service takes my amended flight plan and still tells of VFR horrors at TLH, but advises that it should be easy to get on top. I’m at 3500 and see clouds to the north, but none to speak of east. In a matter of 15 minutes, TLH approach changes advisories from 100 overcast to 5000 few, and I smile and give Clint mental credit for knowing his local weather. Then another crisis pops up. I realize my solo cross country is in danger, as I have a passenger. On the third try, I dispose of the flying pest and even hold altitude, and I am again solo. TLH gives me slight vectors around Class C, and right over Doak field. I am forced to take a picture since my beloved Wolfpack’s recent visit was so successful — I managed to hold myself to 100 photos today between Clint and myself. I discover that N. Florida has perhaps the most desolate stretches of checkpointless terrain you can imagine. Perhaps 50 nm at a clip with nary a power line, pond, or road. The GPS is indeed a modern marvel. Getting 78 kts groundspeed, so trying for TIX in one jump is out of the question, even if the Skipper was burning fuel symmetrically, which it doesn’t. Finally see a straight highway into Perry, I think, which must be 50 miles long, no turns. Nice checkpoint, and I’m IFR the old way. Earlier, JAX center was too busy for flight following, but they squeeze me in. Only other traffic is “Lethal 48” — I don’t want to be near him (or her). Get a scattered layer at 3500 and learn a valuable lesson. When you are at the level of the clouds, they look like they are one cloud deep. You skirt the first to see another. I climb to 5500 and discover my “one cloud deep” is really about 100 nm of scattered, but there are plenty of holes and I’m not worried about being On Top, since I’ve been there every day of the PTAOAL. Nary a ripple in the air all the way to Perry, but I pick the last hole I can see and descend to 3000 for last 50 miles into Gainesville. Right bumpy, and I practice VFR pilotage with many waypoints now available. First time I’ve ever flown to the back of a sectional map — big day.
Land at GNV behind a Dash-8 — they swap active runways less than 10 minutes before I touch down making it a little easier. The FBO literally gives me a red carpet to walk out on. Plane gets fuel and I get a Butterfinger bar. Forgot my water bottle — learning how to survive without water, and it makes for a more comfortable ride. File with GNV FSS and they advise I need a squawk code prior to departure for the newly active Restricted Area 2935 off Cape Canaveral due to the Shuttle (launching Thursday), but a phone call to Daytona Approach reveals the FSS guy didn’t know what he’s talking about — I’ll pick up my code from approach in the air. Can’t rouse FSS so I bag the flight plan. If you can’t find your way VFR in central Florida, you can’t fly. Lakes of every size & shape, rivers, power lines & plants, cities — all distinguishable and it’s easy flying, though choppy. JAX center has a guy who loves to hear himself talk, and he repeats everything twice and cuts everyone off. He tells one VFR pilot “cleared direct somewhere” (literally), which I couldn’t find on the map. Clear a MOA about the time I get my first view of the ocean, and I turn south and pick up Daytona approach at the same time. Get my precious squawk code (5532) and have to go through 4 different DAY controllers on the way south. The third is VERY busy and a little irritated. Two attempts to tell him I’m aboard fail, he finally acknowledges me with a curt “welcome to the frequency”. Tells one poor obviously foreign guy who stepped on an IFR clearance “one-zero-india, let me finish the business I’ve already started, and I’ll get back to you”. Guess he’s still eating leftover turkey. Get a nice view of Daytona International and Speedway, and each airport on the way down. Last approach seems anxious to cut me loose. I verify that my precious 5532 won’t get me shot down, and finally spot TIX from 21 miles out. Also get a nice view of X68 — Space Shuttle landing strip — and the VAB. Now I’m in the old stomping grounds, level at 2500 and bouncing all over the place, miss a bird by no more than 100 feet, and get turned over to the TIX tower for the most unusual directive of the trip. “19Romeo, descend at your discretion and advise when over Walmart and enter left base for runway 9”. I’m busy snapping pictures of my familiar hometown, but respond “I’ll let you know when I’m over Wally World”. She responds a little later with a reminder about “wally”, and my final call on the slow frequency is “attention shoppers, watch for falling prices — one-niner-Romeo is over wally turning inbound to runway 9.” Do get a Mooney inbound, cleared for number two, they announce traffic (me) in sight and request a 360 for spacing. I spot them just off my right wing VERY close as the tower asks me to swing wide and let them pass. Unable, but offer a right 270. She seems appreciative and I get another 5 minutes and a nice steep turn practice in the process. Hometown folks are friendly and we joke all the way to the FBO.
Gateway Aviation must be the R-22 helicopter capital of the world. There are at least 10 airborne and probably another 15 on the ground. But the FBO doesn’t have the line guys I’ve become used to meeting me, and I have to park myself. Guy on the inside asks me if I come here a lot, and I laugh and say it’s my first time, but the plane comes a lot. Mom pulls up 30 seconds after I get settled, and we get home lickety split. She promptly takes care of the dirty laundry I’ve brought along (and must have done or it’s double duty time tomorrow) and breaks out the cookie mix. Ah, it’s good to be home. I download today’s pics and am really glad Clint takes 40 of my taking off and landing. At least a dozen are great. Dad comes home and we go out for Dixie Crossroads and Rock Shrimp like nowhere else. Back home for the PTAOAL entry and a weather check. Forecast is for fog to lift by 9 am, so I’ll likely make JES and back to 1J0 tomorrow and avoid Plan C which is an auto trade with Clint and I drive home for transfer Wed to PNS and on back to RDU. Might be able to swing some Arrow time early Wednesday on the way to PNS. That would be sweet icing to an already delicious cake this week. I find myself over and over saying that I don’t know how I could have any more fun than I’ve had this week. And the experience is truly the PTAOAL.
Doubt I’ll get a ton of sleep tonite — these old folks like to stay up — but the 4.4 behind the yoke today in bright sunshine has my eyes aching and my setter sore. If I can talk dad into a haircut, the day would truly be complete.
IR training – day four
Written by Alan Hoffler
Took a relaxing morning to get some sleep and shoot the breeze. Had a decision whether to press on to TIX after church or do more local training. Several factors, including my stress testing the airframe landings, led me to scrub the long mission in favor of a TBD one. Church ran long and we ran longer, but I survived kid #1’s driving home to make it back for delicious steaks on the grill.
By this time, we had decided to pursue Jesup as a destination, but after discovering our intended party to visit wasn’t there, we changed to attempt long cross country day and night. 1J0-MAI-MGM and back. The kids were especially contentious, and the bargaining began. I don’t know all the details of the auction block discipline that transpired, but at least 4 of the five kids were in a huff on our departure. Clint has confided the plane is a very peaceful place. Preflight was easier since I made one of my own checklists that I’m familiar with for the plane last night. Weather was forecast as 6000 scattered at MGM, and partly cloudy in the local area. Did see several cumulous buildups, but the wind was dead calm — a nice change from yesterday. Departed runway 19 at 1J0 and scared the cows on the 27 nm trip to MAI. Checked out the three landmarks useful for navigation: the dairy, the highway, and the prison. Saw a beautiful rainbow and circled for pictures that didn’t turn out very well. Landing at MAI was my best yet. Full stop and VOR check, and we’re off to MGM. Familiar controller didn’t even ask what a Skipper was. We asked for 6500 and it only took us 20+ minutes to get there, weaving between the scattered layers. At one point, we spot a shower, and Clint has us head for it to wash the windshield. I learn about updrafts and had the best climb performance of the day. After climb, it wasn’t long before we saw a broken layer, well below, but it quickly became overcast and rising. We had at least two excursions around cumulous heads, and I had already settled in my mind the required approach that I assumed would be IFR into MGM. Probably wouldn’t be able to get this classified as VFR CC. Did get to see a pretty sunset over the clouds. ATIS reported MGM clear, and sure enough, 25 nm out, the clouds disappeared more quickly than they started, and we had a gorgeous dusk descent and a SHORT field landing to accommodate the plane flying up our T-tail.
FBOs are nicer everywhere we go than I’m used to. Get a snickers bar and leave a few messages, and check weather. Briefer was a little confused at conflicting reports — forecast was for marginal VFR, but all reporting stations were clear and calm. We’re now fully dark and ready to go. As always, the Class D’s are a little more slack than the class C’s, and MGM is no different. They can’t give us a VFR clearance, but tell us to taxi and they’ll work on it. We hold short for landing traffic, and they clear us for takeoff and heading. We depart. About 5 minutes out, we get “cleared direct to the Miami (MIA) airport”. Thanks, but we’ll plan to stop at Marianna (MAI). Dyslexia and ATC don’t mix. The line of traffic coming up I-65 into Montgomery must have been bump and roll for 20 miles — glad we were at 3000 feet and not in THAT. Worse than marginal VFR conditions. Night is clear, and we spot checkpoint after checkpoint and have several philosophical discussions about airplanes. Cairns approach seems to have trouble with everyone who checks in — but these appear to be confused pilots for the most part. One guy is VFR “level at 8”. One guy asks for an IFR descent into an airport without an approach procedure. But 1819R rolls on at 87 knots groundspeed. Pass Dothan and begin to hear of folks who are in the soup. We’re in the clear but visibility is noticeably less. Cairns clears us for a descent we don’t ask for, but we soon see a cloud over top we suspect he steered us clear from it. These guys are the best in the area. We have a 3-second stint in a cloud, and ask for more descent. This particular Cairns controller is back from his holiday, and asks us (unprompted) if we’ll land at MAI or continue on to Bonifay International. Pretty sharp. We finally spot MAI, now flying in class G airspace just above the deck, and go to advisory. Clouds are easily visible above. Grease one on with a tailwind at MAI, and since we flew low over from Bonifay, I’m confident in the same approach in reverse, albeit at night. The low altitude and prevailing southern winds allow another sense to take in a skunk/chicken house/pulp plant for the trip home. Also on the way MAI-1J0, Clint renews his acquaintance with the Cairns guy, who informs us his recent visit to Bonifay International left him a little short of his expectations. While he was impressed with 1819R in the hangar, he was a little miffed that he drove his Caddy instead of his pickup since the airport road is red clay and mud. Foggy landing on the wet runway is probably not 15 minutes (or even seconds) before the fog settles, and we are glad we didn’t shoot the breeze in MGM any more than we did. No way I’ve have made this one solo, or without an IFR pilot. My confidence has ballooned since my landings no longer do, and I’m pumped with another 4+ in the logbook, and my commercial 2+ >100 nm day AND night complete, and another 101 digital pics taken (263 total now).
Kids are now on restriction until each one turns 21, with kid #2 having to secure sound legal advice to avoid life confinement in his room. Kid #3 is upset that we bought ice cream (Moose Tracks, of course!) on the way home and ate it after he went to bed, which violated the Adult Sweet Treaty of the Dirty Sock Conference held earlier in the week. He commutes the sentence when it is noticed that he is violating curfew to investigate and report the offenders. We are forced to use salad spoons and paper plates to even be in violation since the week change went unnoticed and whomever had kitchen duty left it in disarray. Kid #5 waddles in with her flannel PJs to join my nightly conversation with my spouse, quantity=one, type=female. Kid #5 now even knows her name. Bo (the dog) probably had the best day of all, as he got steak scraps instead of dry food to eat today, and he played at least two holes of golf this morning before joining the family portrait prior to church.
Tomorrow the fog will need to burn off, but weather is forecast scattered at 6 with light winds, so I’ll be off as soon as practical to TIX, then back to 1J0 via JES on Tuesday, and the PTAOAL will end Wednesday at noon. My eyes are sore from the sun and constant vigilance, the sleeper couch has bruised my hipbone, my ears are deaf from the din of five kids, I miss my boy and girl terribly, but will be sorry to see it all end.