Time: 2400Z (1800 MST)
Flying time: 1.8 hrs. (cumulative 18.9)
Landings: 7 (cumulative 54)
Aircraft: Skyhawk N7873N (T-41C)
Flight: ABQ-V19-SAF-V19-ABQ
Finally I get my schedule back in order (had some car trouble, and some brain trouble) so Jeff and I set up a lesson for Wednesday after work. The paperwork for my medical certificate isn't done yet, so I can't solo for a while. Good, my landings are *still* in need of refining. I think we're just going to have more of the same today, head over to Double Eagle (AEG) and do touch and gos.
I meet Jeff at 5pm, and he tells me we're going to explore a little. Today we'll head on up to Santa Fe county airport (SAF), about 50 miles away, and do our touch and gos there. SAF has a control tower, so it's Class D airspace. I've only done Class C and Class G, so there's some new experience right there. The other new stuff is learning flight planning, use of VORs, keeping-one-finger-on-the-chart, pilotage in unfamiliar territory, night flight, engine-out landings, use of pulsating VASI, flying with inoperative instruments and flight-following. Nobody ever claimed Jeff likes to give slow lessons.
We're going to depart ABQ Class C airspace and pick up the V-19 airway, following the 023 radial outbound from Albuquerque VOR until we get to the town of Algodones, where we will switch to Santa Fe VOR and follow the 052 radial inbound until we can make a visual approach to SAF. To get home, assembly is the reverse of disassembly.
Departing class C is something I've pretty much got down pat. Only difference this time is I say "Skyhawk 7873November, VFR to Santa Fe, Initial Heading 310, 9er thousand 500, with Yankee" instead of the usual "VFR to Northwest Practice Area, 8thousand 500." Controller seems not to understand, and asks "73November, do you mean you're going to the northwest practice area then to santa fe" (a heading of 310 would take us there) and I have to clarify "73November negative, we'll be intersecting Victor nineteen."
No big deal getting to V19. But once there, Jeff tells me "Go ahead and tune in 132.8" (I think that was it, have to check my notes). What's that? "Albuquerque Center, we're going to ask for flight following." Of course, he's doing this because I asked earlier if he could explain to me how to get it and what exactly it was. Jeff's style: if I ask a question I'm going to get both an explanation and a demonstration. (Note to self: be careful what you ask for... once I asked what a cross-controlled stall was...) Easy enough, but we get essentially no information out of them, there's hardly any traffic, and before I have time to say " "Bob"'s your uncle" it's time to request a frequency change to check SAF ATIS and contact SAF tower.
For Class D airspace things are considerably different than Class C. Simpler, of course: I just call them up, give a position report and state request: "73November, 15 miles southwest Santa Fe VOR inbound to practice touch and gos." We're told to proceed in and report when on 2 mile right base for runway 15. That's all, no vectors, no traffic warnings, just let us know when you're close enough for us to see you.
Funny, but it's easier for me to see the VOR station ahead of us than the airport at our 11 o'clock. I'm busy looking for the damned thing, when all of a sudden "Oh. There it is. That big long, flat, black thing. Duh." It's odd how hard it is for me to pick out airports like that. I keep looking for these little things that look like the icon on the chart, and am always rather floored at how big they look from the air. We set up on our base leg for 15, call up at 2 miles out, and start our practicing. SAF has a pulsating light VASI instead of the 2-bar VASIs we have at ABQ, so that's new. Pulsating white means high, pulsating red means low, steady white means you're on the 3 degree glide slope. I do 2 slightly decent landings, although in both cases I haven't got enough of a slip going and crab slightly. But basically they are safe landings --- flare at the right time and touch down very gently. I feel good, but Jeff wants to hammer into my head how to fly the slip properly, and we do another. It's a fairly hard landing that time. Then Jeff decides it's time to cover up the altimeter and cage all the gyros. Groan. Ok, I can do this. I underestimate our altitude on downwind by about 200 feet, so I'm a bit higher than TPA, but I make up for it on base and final, and still manage a landing I could walk away from and still be able to use the plane again. Of course, now it's time for Jeff to cover the airspeed indicator, too. Now I'm really nervous, because I'm just sooooo sure I'm going to over estimate our speed. Manage an OK landing, but on the next try I do really badly.
Now it's time for power-out landings. These suck. We're on base, he pulls my power out and I pitch for the wrong airspeed. Do more of an emergency descent than a best glide speed. Duh. I correct, but we've already lost a lot of altitude, so when we're on final I'm way low and if this had been a real emergency I'd probably have crashed into the ditch on the approach end of the runway. Yech. Jeff gives me enough power to make the field and I settle it down, albeit a teeeech hard. We do another, and this time my mistake is turning from base to final a little too slowly and we again lose enough altitude that I'd have crashed just before the threshold. Gotta work on those. A lot.
Now time to go home. Very little to talk about here, except that the sun is setting. I've never before flown in conditions of deepening darkness (although I did once take off moments before dawn, but that's a very different feeling). The sky really is beautiful in New Mexico at sunset, and tonight there are building thunderstorms about 40 miles away from Albuquerque. We'll be home long before they reach the city (I heard the thunder near my house some 5 hours later), so I get to just admire their beauty instead of fear their dangers. The pink dusk light on the thunderheads, occasionally overpowered by the flashes of lightning is awesome. Thank goodness the skies are completely clear where we are, though.
One little bit of excitement: Jeff tells me rather suddenly "make a left turn to 170, NOW" --- he's spotted a Cherokee heading in our direction at our altitude (8,500') and about a mile away. As in, maybe 30 seconds away at our speeds. Grrrrr. Why's he at that altitude when he's heading in that direction, he should be either a thousand feet up or down. Shudder. Now why didn't *I* spot him? Coz I'm spending too much time with my eyes looking down trying to find our damned runway. Helpful reminder for the day: WATCH FOR TRAFFIC at all times. Fortunately he was separated enough that he probably would have passed us instead of hitting us, but it would have been too damned close for comfort.
Finding ABQ is easy, but identifying runway 17 was a tad difficult from our angle. I know that airport pretty well by now, though, so I just looked for the beacon and figured out where the runway would be. When we got about 7 miles out I could finally make out the runway lighting (we'd been at an angle where they were invisible before). The approach considerably more tricky for me in the dark, and we've got a direct 15 knot crosswind to deal with. Shitty landing, as a matter of fact, but a great one if you use the scale of "good=you survive, great=the plane still works."
Points to Ponder: get to that best glide speed immediately when the power's gone, don't get all nervous about it and screw up. Get to know your plane better --- knowing its sounds and feel is essential to flight when those neat little instruments stop working (or your instructor sticks a big suction cup over them). Learn to fly the g**d*** slip in the approach. NEVER STOP LOOKING FOR TRAFFIC, EVER, EVER, EVER.
Next lesson? Sometime next week I guess. Well, no. After several oopses, Jeff and I don't get together for the twelfth lesson until the 16th of September.