Captain Kevin is one of those guys that is nicer than the Midwest. He has thousands of hours of flight time and he flies giant jets made by Boeing. But the minute he becomes your flight instructor he’s bent on assuring you know your stuff and that, in case of an emergency, you’ll land safely.
I’m currently on hour 7.7 of my private pilot recertification process with 2.3 hours left to go before I am, for the first time in 25 years, official. I was told when I reentered this process that it would be just like riding a bike. That could not be further from the truth. Let me explain why.
Captain Kevin lives about 20 miles away from my home airport. He graciously drives up to meet me for my lessons. Last night, my plane partner, Les, flew me down to meet Captain Kevin at his airport. That was at about 10:00 PM. In no time I was in the captain’s seat and up we went. Captain Kevin decided that flying to Napa, where the winds were much stronger, would be a great idea. I had never been to Napa’s airport and this was only my second time in the air at night. So, why not heap on the pressure, right?
My previous night flight was amazing. Five full-stop takeoff and landing cycles went by quickly and seeing the lights of the North Bay were mesmerizing. So I was a bit excited for this peaceful night flight. Captain Kevin had me right where he wanted me. Before getting to Napa He disoriented me a bit my having me track VOR radials. Basically, it’s navigating all over the place and trying to hold a straight line until he tells you to follow another line.
Landing #1
“Now, let’s land at Napa.” No big deal since I greased all my previous night landings. Again, I was putty in his hands. First landing I botched and bounced a bit too much. Crud. Full stop and then up into the flight pattern we go.
Landing #2
All goes well and this time I don’t bounce. Problem corrected. We come to a full stop. Then we take off again and start to get into the pattern. The Captain Kevin says that all the other planes in the pattern (2-3 of them) are all using the runway with a crosswind. “Let’s do that, too.” So now I’m doing a difficult crosswind landing at night at an unfamiliar airport in an airplane that does not want to come down. I drop the right wing down into the wind, left rudder to keep everything straight and touchdown. Full stop and then back into the air with three other student pilots behind me. The pressure continues to build. Les is in the back seat glad he’s not me. He occasionally gives me very reassuring pats on the back that I’m interpreting as “Please don’t kill us tonight” pats. Back into the pattern I go.
Landing #3
All is well until I turn onto final approach. Captain Kevin decides it’s a great time to kill the engine. He quickly quizzes me on what I should be doing if it’s a fire, catastrophic engine failure, UFO collision, electrical failure, out of Colombian coffee, etc. It’s important but remember the engine is out, it’s night and I need to get this plane on the ground. Did I mention it’s dark? I follow the procedures Captain Kevin has drilled into me and we land full stop. Then up we go again as the pressure builds. But this time Captain Kevin waits until I’m barely off the ground and he cuts the engine. There’s no way I have enough speed or altitude to make it back to the runway and he knows it. I push the nose over, do my checks and mentally brace for the worst. “You have to take what comes,” is what he says. “Fly it to the ground and take what comes.” Please, God, don’t ever let that be me. Les give me another pat.
I told my family and friends that if I die in a plane crash, don’t let anyone at my funeral say, “At least he died doing what he loved.” I don’t know of anyone who loves crashing into the ground at 200 mph. So don’t say it. These things are on my mind when Captain Kevin graciously gives me power back and up into the pattern we go. It’s still night and there’s still a crosswind and now I’m really uptight.
Landing #4
I’m only 2/3rds down my downwind leg and he cuts the power again. He asks, “Now what are you going to do?” Well, I’m pointed in the opposite direction but I’m still landing on that runway (in a crosswind going the wrong way in a really fast plane at night). I do my checks and ready the plane for landing. I turn hard right making sure I don't stall a wing, putting the plane into a spin, and roll out on the end a little high (which is way better than too low). I do a side-slip and bleed off the altitude but this is a mile-long runway so no worries, right? I make the landing and come to a full stop. Up in the pattern we go. “Let’s go back home,” he says. I know this is some sort of a trick. I know he wants to break me.
But we couldn’t go straight back. Oh, no! We had to do more VOR navigation work on the way. And why don't we listen to an AM radio station while we're at it and discuss politics. He's overloading me with distractions. I was finally saved by the fog that was now visibly drifting in from the ocean. So, we head back to Petaluma.
Landing #4.5
I was about 3 miles out from Captain Kevin’s home airport and really high when he cut the power again. If you’re keeping score that’s four engine failures in one night and in less than an hour and a half. I ask myself, “Why couldn’t this be a nice end to the evening?” Captain Kevin wants me to sweat even more. I do my checks and get my glide right. At least the wind is coming straight down the runway but I completely expect he has a way to change that, too. I start to believe this man can bend space and time.
I’m about ten feet off the ground about to touch down safe and sound when he announces, “Emergency abort!” I’m hoping it’s not real and I didn’t miss seeing a deer or a hobo wandering on the runway. It doesn’t matter because Captain Kevin says we’re not landing. Up we go. In the pattern we discover the fog is getting closer. And we still need to drop off the Captain and get back to our airport.
Landing #5
This time he’s nice to me and lets me land without incident. We drop him off, Les moves up front and flies the Mooney home. We land at Santa Rosa without any fog and I’ve lost 2 gallons of sweat and much of my faculties.
I’m now safe at home and Captain Kevin has given me a new assignment for those remaining 2.3 hours. Fly around San Francisco, avoiding all it’s dangers, deal with air traffic control, and suffer more engine failures. And, just as a heads up, all the planning I’m expected to do will go right out the window when he calls a “divert.” That means bringing out the map and re-plotting a new course of his choosing while flying the airplane.
Flying a Mooney at night in a crosswind with multiple engine failures is not like riding a bike.
I’m currently on hour 7.7 of my private pilot recertification process with 2.3 hours left to go before I am, for the first time in 25 years, official. I was told when I reentered this process that it would be just like riding a bike. That could not be further from the truth. Let me explain why.
Captain Kevin lives about 20 miles away from my home airport. He graciously drives up to meet me for my lessons. Last night, my plane partner, Les, flew me down to meet Captain Kevin at his airport. That was at about 10:00 PM. In no time I was in the captain’s seat and up we went. Captain Kevin decided that flying to Napa, where the winds were much stronger, would be a great idea. I had never been to Napa’s airport and this was only my second time in the air at night. So, why not heap on the pressure, right?
My previous night flight was amazing. Five full-stop takeoff and landing cycles went by quickly and seeing the lights of the North Bay were mesmerizing. So I was a bit excited for this peaceful night flight. Captain Kevin had me right where he wanted me. Before getting to Napa He disoriented me a bit my having me track VOR radials. Basically, it’s navigating all over the place and trying to hold a straight line until he tells you to follow another line.
Landing #1
“Now, let’s land at Napa.” No big deal since I greased all my previous night landings. Again, I was putty in his hands. First landing I botched and bounced a bit too much. Crud. Full stop and then up into the flight pattern we go.
Landing #2
All goes well and this time I don’t bounce. Problem corrected. We come to a full stop. Then we take off again and start to get into the pattern. The Captain Kevin says that all the other planes in the pattern (2-3 of them) are all using the runway with a crosswind. “Let’s do that, too.” So now I’m doing a difficult crosswind landing at night at an unfamiliar airport in an airplane that does not want to come down. I drop the right wing down into the wind, left rudder to keep everything straight and touchdown. Full stop and then back into the air with three other student pilots behind me. The pressure continues to build. Les is in the back seat glad he’s not me. He occasionally gives me very reassuring pats on the back that I’m interpreting as “Please don’t kill us tonight” pats. Back into the pattern I go.
Landing #3
All is well until I turn onto final approach. Captain Kevin decides it’s a great time to kill the engine. He quickly quizzes me on what I should be doing if it’s a fire, catastrophic engine failure, UFO collision, electrical failure, out of Colombian coffee, etc. It’s important but remember the engine is out, it’s night and I need to get this plane on the ground. Did I mention it’s dark? I follow the procedures Captain Kevin has drilled into me and we land full stop. Then up we go again as the pressure builds. But this time Captain Kevin waits until I’m barely off the ground and he cuts the engine. There’s no way I have enough speed or altitude to make it back to the runway and he knows it. I push the nose over, do my checks and mentally brace for the worst. “You have to take what comes,” is what he says. “Fly it to the ground and take what comes.” Please, God, don’t ever let that be me. Les give me another pat.
I told my family and friends that if I die in a plane crash, don’t let anyone at my funeral say, “At least he died doing what he loved.” I don’t know of anyone who loves crashing into the ground at 200 mph. So don’t say it. These things are on my mind when Captain Kevin graciously gives me power back and up into the pattern we go. It’s still night and there’s still a crosswind and now I’m really uptight.
Landing #4
I’m only 2/3rds down my downwind leg and he cuts the power again. He asks, “Now what are you going to do?” Well, I’m pointed in the opposite direction but I’m still landing on that runway (in a crosswind going the wrong way in a really fast plane at night). I do my checks and ready the plane for landing. I turn hard right making sure I don't stall a wing, putting the plane into a spin, and roll out on the end a little high (which is way better than too low). I do a side-slip and bleed off the altitude but this is a mile-long runway so no worries, right? I make the landing and come to a full stop. Up in the pattern we go. “Let’s go back home,” he says. I know this is some sort of a trick. I know he wants to break me.
But we couldn’t go straight back. Oh, no! We had to do more VOR navigation work on the way. And why don't we listen to an AM radio station while we're at it and discuss politics. He's overloading me with distractions. I was finally saved by the fog that was now visibly drifting in from the ocean. So, we head back to Petaluma.
Landing #4.5
I was about 3 miles out from Captain Kevin’s home airport and really high when he cut the power again. If you’re keeping score that’s four engine failures in one night and in less than an hour and a half. I ask myself, “Why couldn’t this be a nice end to the evening?” Captain Kevin wants me to sweat even more. I do my checks and get my glide right. At least the wind is coming straight down the runway but I completely expect he has a way to change that, too. I start to believe this man can bend space and time.
I’m about ten feet off the ground about to touch down safe and sound when he announces, “Emergency abort!” I’m hoping it’s not real and I didn’t miss seeing a deer or a hobo wandering on the runway. It doesn’t matter because Captain Kevin says we’re not landing. Up we go. In the pattern we discover the fog is getting closer. And we still need to drop off the Captain and get back to our airport.
Landing #5
This time he’s nice to me and lets me land without incident. We drop him off, Les moves up front and flies the Mooney home. We land at Santa Rosa without any fog and I’ve lost 2 gallons of sweat and much of my faculties.
I’m now safe at home and Captain Kevin has given me a new assignment for those remaining 2.3 hours. Fly around San Francisco, avoiding all it’s dangers, deal with air traffic control, and suffer more engine failures. And, just as a heads up, all the planning I’m expected to do will go right out the window when he calls a “divert.” That means bringing out the map and re-plotting a new course of his choosing while flying the airplane.
Flying a Mooney at night in a crosswind with multiple engine failures is not like riding a bike.
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