A Lift Up - Part II

They call it an "Add On" curriculum. That means you're working to add another rating to an existing rating. This ten day experience in the Arizona desert was intended to add a Glider rating to my Airplane Single Engine rating. At the end of the training, which must include at least 3 hours of dual instruction from a Certified Flight Instructor (CFI) and at least 10 solo flights, you must pass an inspection check ride and oral exam from an FAA examiner. It's been thirty-eight years since my last engagement with an FAA examiner. Even though I had reviewed all of the airman regulations and flight manuals a year ago as part of my currency flight review with a CFI, the thought was intimidating.

My first two days in flight training at Estrella Sailport at Arizona Soaring, LLC, did not bolster my confidence. All the weaknesses in my stick and rudder flying skills stuck out like sore thumbs in a glider. Rudders are an essential tool in gliders, not to be forgotten in turns or turbulence. Angles to the runway are to be judged and understood at all times, especially in the landing pattern. You have only one chance to use them to get you on the ground safely and comfortably. "What about those rudders," and "so how does this perspective look to you, high or low," were frequently asked questions by my instructor, Bruce. By the third day it started to all come together thankfully. I knew to pass a flight test, many of those skills would need to be instinctive and automatic so I could concentrate on correct cockpit procedure and demonstrating control and safety.

My buddy Tom was going through the same daily routine, but with even more uncertainty and intensity. He had never flown before, and was starting from ground zero. We both met for breakfast at 6:30 and spent the morning before leaving for the field at 10:15 a.m. studying various manuals, federal publications, and guides. From 11:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. we'd alternate between flights and ground discussion with our instructors, get back to the hotel around 5:00 p.m., and then share a drink while we shared what we learned, screwed up, and didn't understand. Then dinner, followed by more studying until our eyelids landed in the closed position.

Next day - repeat.

A Normal Take-off

On day four I made it over the hump. Shear terror helped. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating, but to say my heart health was tested would not be an overstatement. One of the procedural memory flaws I had to address was an omission of in-flight call out of the attainment of 200 feet in altitude after take-off. After 200 feet, you have enough altitude to turn back to the runway for a safe landing. Before that, you have no choice but to land straight ahead into whatever may lie before you. In the flight test, if you omit that call out, intended to change your emergency response plan in your mind, you automatically fail the exam. The purpose of the call out became clear as we simulated a check ride as part of my qualification to fly solo. I was experiencing some satisfaction with my steady and well controlled position behind the tow plane as I successfully called out 200 feet and settled in for the climb to 2,000 feet. Seconds after the call out the rope gave way and we were disconnected. "Wholly *$%&," I said, recalling Bruce telling me that in over 25,000 flights he's only experienced six rope breaks, half on the runway when the rope is under maximum tension, making for an easy roll out, and half well in the air, allowing smooth return to the runway. Just my luck it happens to me two hundred and some feet off of the ground. Since I had reminded myself of the decision height as a result of my call-out, my reaction of turning back to land downwind was automatic, resulting in a smooth, controlled landing, ending exactly at the target point mid-field. The only thing left to control was my hyperventilation. It occurred to me that my instructor may have instigated that sudden break with the tow-plane. "Don't ever do that to me again without a defibrillator on board," I shouted at him. He quietly said okay through a wide grin. I had passed that important test.
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YouTube video's of a couple of Tom's flights:
Get ready, get set...  Setting up for a take-off.
Landing  One of Tom's landings - pretty good for a newbie.
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Back in the air we went. Once again, following the tow plane smoothly after calling out the 200 foot decision height, I waited for 2000 feet. Sometimes, when following the tow plane, it banks randomly on one direction as one of its wings hits some lift. At around 1500 feet it did just that, but then banked the other way. Two thermals, that close together? Odd, I thought. Then it banked the other direction again as I waited to pass through those thermals, which never came. "Emergency signal," my instructor yelled, "release, release!!"

Once again my blood pressure banged against my veins. When the tow plane rocks its wings, it means he's got an emergency and to release immediately. Though it took me too long to react, I released immediately and followed the rest of the emergency procedure with enough altitude left to exercise a normal landing... if you can call landing while under the influence of excessive amounts of adrenaline normal.

My reward after the flight was the placement of a signed addendum in my logbook stating that I was qualified to fly gliders without passengers as a solo student pilot. The feeling was the same as I remembered from thirty-eight years ago when I soloed in a powered airplane. For a moment, I felt like a teenager again.

See Part III of "A Lift Up".