Since we've got this whole "come to Jesus meeting" area here....
I've heard it said that a PPL is not a license to fly, but a license to learn. It's also commonly said that an instructors job is not so much to teach a student to fly, but rather to let the student learn to fly on their own without killing them both in the process. Hind-sight being what it is, I realize now just how little my primary instructor knew and passed on to me.
Early March of '98, I took my PPL checkride (C-172) and passed at 42 hours total time, on a gorgeous Thursday afternoon. With my newly minted ticket in hand, I booked the airplane for the entire weekend, flew from Dallas to San Angelo on Friday afternoon, and way early on Saturday morning we set out for Durango, CO to do some snow-skiing on the fresh powder that the latest cold front had dumped. We had beautiful CAVU all the way, and I was certain that I knew everything there was to know, since the FAA had just told me so. Around ABQ we were picking up about 40-50 knots on the nose, and landed for fuel and stayed put for about 2 hours while the winds died down a bit. The mountain wave activity coming in to ABQ was rather interesting - but that's a whole 'nuther story!
Departing ABQ just a hair under gross for Durango (1:30 enroute) with three aboard, slight baggage, and full fuel, I was very careful to fly by the numbers with the high density altitude. Slow climb, but everything was good into Durango. We knew the winds were going to be fun at Durango, as they have only one runway (9000') and it was going to be a significant crosswind. I had the foresight to leave ABQ with full fuel as an ultimate backup plan, we could always go back to ABQ if we had to.
To set this up, I took all my PPL training in the flatlands of Texas, most of it just east of Dallas. No mountain experience, no true high-altitude experience, and very little X-wind experience. Less than 50 hours total time at arrival DRO. Sound like fun yet? So here we come with a density altitude of right at 9000 feet, MAYBE 200 pounds under gross in a 172, with what turns out to be a 60 degree left cross at 25 gusting 33. No problem, says I - I've done crosswind landings in training and I can do it here too.
As I set up on approach, I knew my descent rate would be a little higher due to density altitude, so I left a little more vertical cushion. Crabbed in significantly, dropped full flaps just like I had on almost all my other landings, and maintained about 70 knots on approach. At around 300 feet altitude it became obvious that my crab angle was hideous and I was about to run out of rudder trying to slip enough to keep it straight. Already starting to blow downwind of the runway alignment, I did the smart thing and powered up, sucked up some flaps, leveled, sucked up the rest of the flaps, and went around for another shot.
Second verse, same as the first. Lined up on the left edge of the runway, figuring to let the wind blow me across a little bit if need be during flare. Again, 70 knots with full flaps. This time I got down to about 40 feet in much better shape, when the devil bit my butt. There were some upwind hangars on the approach end of the runway, and the rolling turbulence coming off those hangars across the threshold nearly got me. When I first felt it, I did the only smart thing I would do for the next 30 seconds, I went to full power and abandoned all thought of the runway. Of course, being a low-time pilot with no high altitude experience, I was also running full-rich so full throttle was not giving me my best engine output. I did quit fighting the crosswind and swiveled directly into the wind to eliminate cross-controlled airspeed losses, and the wind was still carrying me to the right of the runway while I was rolling the wings about 45 degrees each way in the rolling turbulence.
Did I mention the full flaps approach? Yeah, well, they were still there, totally forgot about that for the moment. I was now off the runway downwind, over nice flat grass, at about 4 or 5 feet with low sink rate, stall horn screaming, with me just trying to keep the wings level so I don't cartwheel if one catches the ground, in nearly full-blind panic. I was about ready to try to slip back forward again as I knew there was no way to avoid touching down at what was roughly a 30 degree crab, when a little ground effect (and a couple angels too, maybe) gave me just enough lift to avoid touching down - I don't think I missed the ground by more than 8 inches.
By now I had flown out of the hangar-induced turbulence and things stabilized a bit. I did the next smart thing, and pulled up about 1/3 of my flaps. Within a few seconds the now-intermittent stall warning stopped chirping and I started a slow climb, still over the grass median on the east side of the runway. I nursed it along, sucking up a little more flap at a time. Finally remembered to lean for full power at about 500 AGL. I kept trying to catch my breath as I continued a slow climb to about 1500 AGL, making a couple circuits around the field as I did so. DRO is untowered, but someone on Unicom asked me if I needed assistance from an instructor for the approach, I replied that there would not be another approach attempted at this airport today. I flew south of the field to stay out of the rising terrain and consulted my sectional, and decided to fly over to Animas Airpark on the west side of town, they had a much narrower runway with a more favorable heading into the wind. I made a zero-flaps 100 knot flyover at 100 feet to check for turbulence, and then went around and made a textbook crosswind landing with zero flaps. $30 for a cab to get to Durango where our rental car was waiting. I didn't stop shaking for an hour.
I look back on that episode now and just start counting the mistakes and shaking my head. I had no right to avoid wrinkling metal. ****, I had no right attempting that flight with my low time and insufficient training, but I didn't even realize that at the time. My buddies went skiing the next day, and I spent 5 hours with an instructor doing some real mountain flying and learning fast. Best money I ever spent, in my opinion. We got another day of skiing in, and I transferred the airplane to DRO while they returned the rent car. CAVU night flight back home was entirely uneventful with 40 knots consistently on the tail, though I did burn almost 4000 feet of runway getting out of DRO, holding it down until almost 80 knots indicated.
My primary instructor was only building time for a corporate jet job, he didn't have his heart in instructing and was young and inexperienced as well and didn't really know how to teach the skills he had acquired. A PPL is a license to learn, and at least for some, a CFI is a license to learn how to teach. I survived my trial by fire and I've become a very skeptical pilot because of it, with constant situational analysis and Plan B,C,D ready to be put into effect. I won't take an underpowered airplane into high terrain again, and I've made a constant game of finding the worst X-wind situations I can and running T/G's in those conditions. Narrow runways, grass runways, sloping runways, you name it. I don't know what my next flying challenge will be, but I hope to be a little more ready for it than my first one.
I've heard it said that a PPL is not a license to fly, but a license to learn. It's also commonly said that an instructors job is not so much to teach a student to fly, but rather to let the student learn to fly on their own without killing them both in the process. Hind-sight being what it is, I realize now just how little my primary instructor knew and passed on to me.
Early March of '98, I took my PPL checkride (C-172) and passed at 42 hours total time, on a gorgeous Thursday afternoon. With my newly minted ticket in hand, I booked the airplane for the entire weekend, flew from Dallas to San Angelo on Friday afternoon, and way early on Saturday morning we set out for Durango, CO to do some snow-skiing on the fresh powder that the latest cold front had dumped. We had beautiful CAVU all the way, and I was certain that I knew everything there was to know, since the FAA had just told me so. Around ABQ we were picking up about 40-50 knots on the nose, and landed for fuel and stayed put for about 2 hours while the winds died down a bit. The mountain wave activity coming in to ABQ was rather interesting - but that's a whole 'nuther story!
Departing ABQ just a hair under gross for Durango (1:30 enroute) with three aboard, slight baggage, and full fuel, I was very careful to fly by the numbers with the high density altitude. Slow climb, but everything was good into Durango. We knew the winds were going to be fun at Durango, as they have only one runway (9000') and it was going to be a significant crosswind. I had the foresight to leave ABQ with full fuel as an ultimate backup plan, we could always go back to ABQ if we had to.
To set this up, I took all my PPL training in the flatlands of Texas, most of it just east of Dallas. No mountain experience, no true high-altitude experience, and very little X-wind experience. Less than 50 hours total time at arrival DRO. Sound like fun yet? So here we come with a density altitude of right at 9000 feet, MAYBE 200 pounds under gross in a 172, with what turns out to be a 60 degree left cross at 25 gusting 33. No problem, says I - I've done crosswind landings in training and I can do it here too.
As I set up on approach, I knew my descent rate would be a little higher due to density altitude, so I left a little more vertical cushion. Crabbed in significantly, dropped full flaps just like I had on almost all my other landings, and maintained about 70 knots on approach. At around 300 feet altitude it became obvious that my crab angle was hideous and I was about to run out of rudder trying to slip enough to keep it straight. Already starting to blow downwind of the runway alignment, I did the smart thing and powered up, sucked up some flaps, leveled, sucked up the rest of the flaps, and went around for another shot.
Second verse, same as the first. Lined up on the left edge of the runway, figuring to let the wind blow me across a little bit if need be during flare. Again, 70 knots with full flaps. This time I got down to about 40 feet in much better shape, when the devil bit my butt. There were some upwind hangars on the approach end of the runway, and the rolling turbulence coming off those hangars across the threshold nearly got me. When I first felt it, I did the only smart thing I would do for the next 30 seconds, I went to full power and abandoned all thought of the runway. Of course, being a low-time pilot with no high altitude experience, I was also running full-rich so full throttle was not giving me my best engine output. I did quit fighting the crosswind and swiveled directly into the wind to eliminate cross-controlled airspeed losses, and the wind was still carrying me to the right of the runway while I was rolling the wings about 45 degrees each way in the rolling turbulence.
Did I mention the full flaps approach? Yeah, well, they were still there, totally forgot about that for the moment. I was now off the runway downwind, over nice flat grass, at about 4 or 5 feet with low sink rate, stall horn screaming, with me just trying to keep the wings level so I don't cartwheel if one catches the ground, in nearly full-blind panic. I was about ready to try to slip back forward again as I knew there was no way to avoid touching down at what was roughly a 30 degree crab, when a little ground effect (and a couple angels too, maybe) gave me just enough lift to avoid touching down - I don't think I missed the ground by more than 8 inches.
By now I had flown out of the hangar-induced turbulence and things stabilized a bit. I did the next smart thing, and pulled up about 1/3 of my flaps. Within a few seconds the now-intermittent stall warning stopped chirping and I started a slow climb, still over the grass median on the east side of the runway. I nursed it along, sucking up a little more flap at a time. Finally remembered to lean for full power at about 500 AGL. I kept trying to catch my breath as I continued a slow climb to about 1500 AGL, making a couple circuits around the field as I did so. DRO is untowered, but someone on Unicom asked me if I needed assistance from an instructor for the approach, I replied that there would not be another approach attempted at this airport today. I flew south of the field to stay out of the rising terrain and consulted my sectional, and decided to fly over to Animas Airpark on the west side of town, they had a much narrower runway with a more favorable heading into the wind. I made a zero-flaps 100 knot flyover at 100 feet to check for turbulence, and then went around and made a textbook crosswind landing with zero flaps. $30 for a cab to get to Durango where our rental car was waiting. I didn't stop shaking for an hour.
I look back on that episode now and just start counting the mistakes and shaking my head. I had no right to avoid wrinkling metal. ****, I had no right attempting that flight with my low time and insufficient training, but I didn't even realize that at the time. My buddies went skiing the next day, and I spent 5 hours with an instructor doing some real mountain flying and learning fast. Best money I ever spent, in my opinion. We got another day of skiing in, and I transferred the airplane to DRO while they returned the rent car. CAVU night flight back home was entirely uneventful with 40 knots consistently on the tail, though I did burn almost 4000 feet of runway getting out of DRO, holding it down until almost 80 knots indicated.
My primary instructor was only building time for a corporate jet job, he didn't have his heart in instructing and was young and inexperienced as well and didn't really know how to teach the skills he had acquired. A PPL is a license to learn, and at least for some, a CFI is a license to learn how to teach. I survived my trial by fire and I've become a very skeptical pilot because of it, with constant situational analysis and Plan B,C,D ready to be put into effect. I won't take an underpowered airplane into high terrain again, and I've made a constant game of finding the worst X-wind situations I can and running T/G's in those conditions. Narrow runways, grass runways, sloping runways, you name it. I don't know what my next flying challenge will be, but I hope to be a little more ready for it than my first one.