Brett_Henderson wrote on Dec 13^th, 2006 at 8:33pm:


That's what I figured... I'd have done the same thing, unless I had a good book with me. And I guess that the gauges might tell you something useful... although I try to avoid even thinking about those lousy gauges.

I wonder if they've done anything about that with the new breed of Cessna recips... I have a little SP time now, but honestly haven't looked to see if the gauges are more accurate; that's how deeply biased I am against them...

I've been thumbing thru the old flight journal, trying to find single  flights  that best represent each of the three categories, and I honestly can't.  My long journey to and from New Orleans springs to mind, but I've already told about that at length here, and as usual, those six legs were a mixed bag, for sure.

So how about some key moments, culled from all my flights as a student or licensed pilot? Here's the short version:

Best (for that feeling of accomplishment or just fun... first solo excluded):

-First dual flight; my "discovery flight" in a Tomahawk at 1N7
-First time I lifted the Foggles and saw the runway right in front of me
--Returning from my first solo X-C- got lost, got found, landed in light rain, made it home ahead of front- mission accomplished!
-Looking up and seeing the ground, doing my first loop
-Having someone I met less than an hour earlier let me take the stick in his RV-4 for some steep turns
-Arriving safely just after sunset after a winter flying date with a lady who genuinely enjoyed it despite the inop heater
-Returning home after flying over 2,000 miles over 2 consecutive weekends, having flown over 1,000 miles from home... tired but very pleased with myself


Worst (for embarassment, fear, or discomfort :

-First time I bounced a landing as a licensed PP
-One and only time I burned up some brake pads after landing too long (also the one and only time I had a pax vomit- on final, of course)
-The time I got hollered at by TEB tower for starting to exit onto a taxiway where another aircraft was holding short in full view
-First time I felt queasy on an early dual flight (thought it would keep happening)
-The time I made radical course and altitude changes under FF without advising the controller, forcing him to frantically divert several IFR flights in his sector before he had a chance to ask me what the hell I was up to
-The one and only time I took off solo after a long hiatus and felt certain as I climbed out that I was going to get myself killed (first landing got rid of that, but it was a horrible feeling)
-First time I saw converging traffic and realized that if the other pilot hadn't seen me first and turned away, I wouldn't be sitting here typing this


Most memorable (for being able to just close my eyes and relive every detail; these fall under "Best" just as easily):

-The time the transponder started smoking
-Threading  through rainy cumuli over Slidell, preparing to land there as soon as I spied it, disappointed that I'd come so far only to be thwarted by weather, then seeing a huge hole of clear sky between me and New Orleans, my intended destination... a beautiful sight!
-First time I really had to fight to stay below Va and maintain course and heading in turbulence in a 172  (but did just fine despite it)
-Climbing out of SWF in a shallow bank with the stick of a 200-hp airlplane in my hand (Zlin 242), on my way to take my first aerobatic lesson
-First time taking off at night, at N07- as soon as we rotated, we plunged into total darkness, and I discovered a whole new world of flying, climbing out on instruments
-Blowing the Nav portion at the very beginning of my PP practical test, but somehow sucking it up and doing very well on the remainder (re-flew that part later and of course nailed it)


I am way behind on typing up my journal entries, most of which were jotted down the same day as the flights... but as I catch up, maybe I'll post some, if anyone's interested.

Brett_Henderson wrote on Dec 14^th, 2006 at 11:08pm:


Exactly.
It was really the only time I was ever really, really scared up there... realizing I was afraid was what really spooked me; pilot's logic, I guess.
Levelling off on downwind, I was no longer scared, but worried.
I decided right then  that if I survived the landing, I'd park it.
By the abeam point, I decided to see how it went, then make up my mind about doing another.
The landing was actually pretty good, although my knees were knocking together. Figured I should have another go.
Next one was better, but still not trusting myself...went around because it didn't look perfect.
By the third takeoff, I was whooping and hollering.  Made a really good landing.
Rain started as I rolled out on the third landing, so I decided to park it.
Rain stopped as soon as the prop stopped after shutdown.

Just checked the logbook- can you believe I already had about 180 hrs total that day, and it had only been 3 months? It was puzzling. Just a total psych-out. 

And looking again, on my first solo flight after a BFR, after almost two years on the ground (following one dual flight  after another hiatus of about 2 years), I was much less nervous, even while being battered by lee winds off the ridge while making an approach at Blairstown, where I managed one of my better blustery x-wind landings.
Go figure...   

It's funny, because at the time, I was sure that the date, airports, brief note AND an asterisk would be enough to remind me of what happened. My logbook dates all the way back to 1979. I had less than 300 hours before marriage and all that goes with trying to get a life started sent me on a 20+ year hiatus. I do remember that a new Cruiser or Skyhawk could be rented for $39/hour wet... and a nice one could be bought for $20,000.

This club's online scheduler keeps a "logbook" for you... and you can add notes that show up on the receipt too. Ashamedly, my real logbook isn't up to date (I'm a good 30 entries behind), but I know I'm approaching 900 hours total.

Anyway... I think every pilot has that flight, where anxiety to the point of trembling limbs makes him ask himself, "Maybe I have no business doing this ?". My kees knocked climbing out. I just told myself to climb to 6,000 feet, fly out to where you won't be jeopardizing anyone else, and this anxiety will pass. However.. during that climb, I started envisioning a mid-air, genuine, panic-attack (which just made things worse)... So, I got right back into the pattern and decided (like you), that if get down in one piece, I'm parking this thing and self-evaluating. Had I not used up too much of the runway, I would have made it a touch-and-go (that's how relieved and confident I became.. when "it all came back to me").  I taxied back and took off again and REALLY had a blast.

As good as I did feel about myself, driving home that day.. it was several flights later before the pre-flight anxiety faded. At one point, I started thinking that the fun in flying wasn't worth this much apprehension. It's a good thing for me, that we didn't have the instant, online weather access that we have now, else I'd not have taken many a flight. A forecast crosswind at my destination (or for the return landing) would have been all the excuse I needed to stay on the ground. Now, a stiff crosswind can be a REASON to go flying  

I just remembered a memorable flight...

One of my first solos, not my first, but close, I was doing pattern work and landing practices and I took off, and on flew the pattern, and on my downwind I always run through "fuel's on both, mixture's rich, carb heat on, check belts" checklist before starting my descent, but on that day I must have just been overwhelmed or something, because when I went to pull the carb heat out, I grabbed the mixture instead! Luckily, right before I gave myself a little engine out landing practice, I snapped back and realized what I was doing.  That one got me shaking a bit, but since then, I'm always exactly sure I know what I'm pulling, what it will do, and what to do if it doesn't work.  That was probably my third most scary moment while I was flying.

Hi folks...well I really had to think about this one for awhile before coming up with an honest answer.  

"The Best Flight"

My best flight was today as it was the last time I flew.
The old girl and I went up and visited several Flying Farmers Fields who's owners are very good friends of ours.  
With five years plus half a century and three log books, as an aviator I do not think I have ever flown one flight as crew or pilot in command where I have not thought of or recited the poem "High Flight" by P/O JG MAGEE JR. RCAF.
If you get a moment, take time and read it, then I think you will understand what I am talking about.  

"The Worst Flight"

Looking back I can honestly say I have never really had a bad flight.  
Yes I have had engine failures, electrical failures, gear problems,  delays, deaths on board from medical problems and all that comes with being an aviator.
I hope you don't mind me passing on some friendly advice.  When a Profession becomes a Job, then it is time to look for a new Profession.  

"Most Memorable Flight"
I could not make up my mind on this one so here are a few.

Aircraft:   Canso
Location:  Inlet off Hudsons Bay...Province of Quebec
Incident:  Unloading 45 gallon drums through rear Dutch Doors when a 45 gallon drum
              dropped and went through natives flat bottom boat.
              Boat sank...two wet unhappy natives.

Aircraft:   Cessna 185 on floats
Location:  Province of Ontario
Incident:   July, very hot, owners son talked me into towing him on water skis behind
               aircraft.  
               Owners son fell on water skis in front of sandy beach full of vacationers,
               Owners son lost bathing suit, owners son very unhappy and so was his
               daddy.

Aircraft:    DC3
Location:   Fort Albany...off Hudson Bay
Incident:   We were taking some students from Timmins Ontario North for a visit when
               we landed on the runway it was covered with black ice.  The DC3 started to
               slide sideways and we lost all rudder control.  
               I finally got some control by dropping some ski and using power.  The DC3
               straightened out and when we stopped the students were clapping and
               laughing and wanting to do it again.
               I was all for it   however the copilot and I never brought a change of
               underwear.

Aircraft:    Fleet Canuck
Location:   Check with the "Rifleman" he will know the airport, the road it was on was
               named after a famous Major.
Incident:   Now this happened when I was very young and foolish and probably when
               most of you were just a twinkle in your Dads eye.
               There was no Ministry of Transport in Canada, it was called the Department
               of Transport then, the Boeing 707 had not even flown yet.
               Now this little airport had a grass strip running North and South paralleling
               a fair size ditch.  Just off to the North side was an old wooden drive shed,
               it probably housed farm equipment at one time.  There was an East West
               paved runway as well.
               Well the old boys (World War One and some World War Two) pilots, many
               who never had a civilian licence but flew anyways (and a few armchair pilots)
               would have a few toddys on Saturday morning and by midafternoon could be
               found jumping this ditch in the old Tiger Moth or the Fleet Canuck.
               Well yours truly got fed straight Scotch along with another young fool and
               with Scotch bottle, two glasses in hand and sitting in the rear we started off
               in the Fleet Canuck.
               We managed to get over the ditch but ground looped and went straight into
               this old drive shed bringing it down on top of the aircraft and us.
               Well when the old boys finally staggered to the building and removed all the
               old boards, hay, bird droppings and whatever else off the top of us, I still
               had the half bottle of Scotch, are glasses were full and we were toasting
               ourselves.  
               The old boys paid for the aircraft to be fixed and a bond was firmly
               established between "OLD FOOLS AND YOUNG FOOLS".  
               Try that today and they would HANG you.
               As I recall I do not ever remember adding that to my "Resume".  LOL

You beggars have me reminiscing now which is wonderful, so I shall stop here because I love reading about YOUR experiences.  

In conclusion experience in any field takes time, it is not learned overnight, if you have a dream, hold on to it, don't let it slip away no matter how unrealistic it may seem right now. Try to learn something new each and every day no matter how miniscule it might seem to be.
To those of you with an Aviation Licence, good luck and God speed on your careers and to all you Simulator Pilots thank you for accepting me into your fold and assisting me with the many questions I pose.  

Cheers...Happy Landings...Doug

Ah yes, the Trucker weighs in... terrific stuff!
I'll tell you, Doug, I know it would be a helluva chore to write down every story, but I'd love to see just the logbook notes from, say, the first page of your second logbook. Or tell us about your very first lesson, or whatever... pleeeeez, Unka Doug? 

Hi Sean:

I am sure there are a lot more interesting people on this forum than me and with a lot of wonderful flying experiences they could share.   

Just about everyone in our family including our own children are, have been or probably going to be Military Aviators with careers ending with Commercial Flying.  I did have one uncle who was a Navy Captain and another who was a Major in the Armoured Corps.  After thirty years service they both actually became teachers.  We will not talk about them as they were the black sheep of the family (non aviators)  LOL. 

As a military brat by the time I was ten years old and certainly not the oldest child I had more than one hundred hours in the air travelling as a family from location to location.  Our father was rather high on the food chain in the RCAF and he would drag us on trips throughout the United States and Canada when we were not in school.  I used to get a thrill sitting on a stack of flying manuals placed on the right seat so I could see out while holding onto the yoke of the Dakota (C47/DC3).

I did my first take off and landing in my dads own Tiger Moth at the ripe old age of fourteen.  I had an older brother, the second oldest who beat me by several months prior to his fourteenth birthday. 

My dad used to say if you can Box, Dance and pound out a tune on the Piano you can fly the Tiger Moth as they all have something in common.  He was so right. 
I will let you figure that one out.

My second log book, had to blow the dust off it for you, I was already flying Commercially and there was not much of interest on the first half dozen pages but I did find an entry when I was instructing on the Canso. (Catalina/PBY)

I was in the right seat checking out a new Captain and we were doing a water landing on Hudsons Bay abeam Great Whale.  He was scheduled to do a trip and we were trying to get in a couple of water takeoffs and landings.  He was doing a perfect approach and about fifty feet up when this whale surfaced right in front of us.
That cetacean mammal had all of Hudsons Bay but he had to surface right in front of us.
Oh we did not hit him but it was a close encounter.  With miles and miles of empty water ahead of us we shot a missed approach. 

I found another entry about one third of the way into the log book that said "Fighter Pilots...make the worst passengers...Humbug".
Well I flew scheduled runs but on our time off we could keep our Float Endorsement current by flying for the other side of the company which did Bush Flying of all kinds.
I kept current on the DHC-3 "Otter" by flying it when not scheduled out.
This one particular trip I picked up a group of nine and three of them were former United States Air Force fighter pilots who flew the Century Series Fighters over Vietnam.
Well after bragging all about the "Otter" (who me  ) we were airborne and just past the last lake for about ten miles and what happens, we blow a jug.  Well I dropped her nose, we were about two thousand feet, turned the old girl 180 degrees in the same square footage as a small house and dropped her onto this lake about the size of a postage stamp.
When we settled onto the water I looked back and these guys were as white as ghosts and chanting something.  I don't think it was "Off we go into the Wild Blue Yonder"...YUP...Fighter Pilots do make the worst passengers.   

Okay that is it for me now, let's hear from a few others. 

Cheers...Happy Landings...Doug