Last Friday I drove to Odessa for a flying lesson at Schlemeyer Field. The day was hot and windy. Josh and I did a few T/Os and landings; then Josh suggested we call it a day. As we pulled up the to hangar, Josh said "you can do some soloing now if you'd like". I thought about it for 15 seconds or so and finally said "heck yeah I want to!". During those 15 seconds I was imagining flying the plane myself and I felt a teensy weensy bit scared.
I left the engine running and Josh got out. I closed the canopy and it felt very, very quiet in the plane. The wind was from the south, so I taxied around to runway 16. It's a long trip and I did it like always. When I reached the runway lines, I head a call from an aircraft coming in to land on runway 16. I called out on the radio "Schlemeyer traffic, 497 Papa Alpha holding short for runway 16". I didn't know what was the "right" thing to say, but I had to say something. I waited a bit, then Josh came on the radio from the FBO. "Golden Eagle please report on your position." He was talking to the plane in the sky, somewhere, coming in to land at runway 16. I scanned the sky but couldn't see it. Golden Eagle gave a location report and then Josh came on the radio and told me I was clear to take off. Only then did I realize Golden Eagle was going into a traffic pattern around the airport and not coming in for a direct approach. I turned out onto the runway and stopped to do a final check: flaps to T/O position, fuel pump on, trim neutral. Then I applied full power and started off down the runway.
The Diamond 20 does not accelerate quickly. It hardly feels like it's accelerating at all. Gradually, gradually, with a loud hum from the engine, like a giant fan (it is), I moved forward down the runway. I never look at the airspeed indicator while taking off, but I think "rotate speed" is somewhere around 60 knots indicated air speed (KIAS). I pulled back on the elevator and felt for the "mushiness" that comes into the controls as the plane begins to want to fly. At this point I applied a little back pressure but then immediately moderate the back pressure to keep the plane in a very modest climb, making sure I can see the horizon over the nose of the plane. Too steep a climb now could lead to a stall, and the ground is very close, but far away enough to fall and crash into it. Climbing out into the strong south wind, it takes me a while to get to a relatively safe altitude of 300' about the ground (AGL) where I can retract the flaps and turn off the fuel pump. At 500' AGL I initiate a left-hand 90 degree turn. Over my left shoulder, I can see the runway I just departed. This turn is quick because as I bank the plane the strong south wind turns me rapidly to the left. A little way out and I initiate another left turn to parallel runway 16. This is the downwind leg, and I call it out over the radio. I have a good view of the airport and the runway I'm going to land on, if all goes well. About halfway past the airport I level out at 4000' MSL (that's 1000' AGL at Schlemeyer), pull back the throttle to cruising power (2000 rpm) and put in one set of flaps and turn on the fuel pump. A little way past the airport, I back off the throttle even more (1700 rpm) and point the nose of the plane up a little to slow down to 75 knots. Below 80 knots IAS I can lower full flaps, and I do so. This slows the plane down but gives it lots of lift. I left left again for "base" and then again for "final", taking a good look to my right before the last turn for any aircraft that may be coming in for a direct approach and landing. Focusing on the start of the runway, I imagine my glide path and back out power a little more. The strong south wind makes me feel like I'm high to land, but I'm not making much forward progress for each foot I drop because of the headwind.
As I drop closer to the Earth, it feels like I'm going faster and faster. I start to get a little nervous. The start of the runway passes beneath me and I'm about 20 feet off the ground and actually sinking pretty slowly. Just as I begin to sink, I pull back on the controls and "flare" at just the right moment. The plane touches down without a bump or a hop; perfectly; I can hardly believe I'm on the ground. The landing was so smooth, I think I must still be flying. A perfect landing.
As instructed, I came to a full stop and waited to hear Josh on the radio. He told me to do another one...
I repeated the process a total of three times. The second landing was pretty good, with one bounce. The third landing was not so good, with a series of bounces that was starting to feel like "porpoising". Thankfully on the third bounce I flared at the right time and stopped the bouncing.
Landing, landing landing. Just like location in real estate, landing is the thing in aviation. Yes, other things are important, like taking off -- but landing is really key, and the hardest for me to master.
Two most "soloing" lessons like this, then a short cross-country to Midland, then a longer dual cross country, hopefully to Big Bend.
I solo'ed!
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Thursday, June 02, 2011
Flying
I now have 13.1 hours of flight time. 12.1 of that on this "go round". This Saturday I have my FAA Flight Medical which I need before soloing (flying without my instructor in the plane). I suppose I'll need to get insurance too. Expensive hobby. The last several lessons have been take-offs, traffic pattern, and landings. Landings are the toughest for me. I can take off, I can do traffic, operate the radio, and I can usually do a nice high-performance approach. The last 10 vertical feet is what gives me trouble. I get scared as the rate of descent increases and the ground approaches. Then I over-compensate by pulling back too much on the stick (usually).
In the most recent lesson we went back through basic maneuvers, slow flight, stalls, etc. I felt like I did about 100x better than my first or second lesson (last time we did basic maneuvers). Med certificate, a few more practice T/Os and landings, and I'll be soloing!
In the most recent lesson we went back through basic maneuvers, slow flight, stalls, etc. I felt like I did about 100x better than my first or second lesson (last time we did basic maneuvers). Med certificate, a few more practice T/Os and landings, and I'll be soloing!
Monday, May 23, 2011
A little closer to the stars
On Saturday, after flying a Piper Comanche from Midland to Schlemeyer Field (20 miles?), I had a brief ground school class with my instructor. We covered airspace types and he gave me a pre-solo quiz. During the training he got a call from a pilot services client who wanted to be accompanied to Dallas Love Field in his Cirrus SR22. My instructor then told me "if you can be at Love Field tomorrow at noon, you can fly an SR22 back to Midland". Well, no problem there.
Sunday at 10:45 am, I boarded a Southwest 737 for the short (1 hr, 5 min) bunny hop to Dallas Love Field. 10 minutes after arrival, my instructor picked me up in an FBO courtesy car and we went for lunch at La Madeleine's, in Dallas' prestigious Preston Hollow neighborhood. It was super-humid in Dallas, which I've never visited except to drive through, and stopovers at DFW. Preston Hollow is an upscale area, everything reminding me of Houston and River Oaks. Lovely, vibrant, full of life -- in a way that Midland is not.
After lunch, Josh filed our flight plan by phone and back to our FBO at Love Field we drove. The SR22 is a lovely plane, the outer skin shiny like a new car. Because planes are expensive to buy, people keep them flying a long time -- many trainers date from the 60's or 70's, like the (awesome) late-60's Comanche I flew on Saturday. The SR22 is nearly new. It is a 4-seater, single-engine, high-performance plane, with a ~300 hp 6-cylinder engine, air-cooled of course. It has an automatic mechanical variable-pitch propeller and non-retractable landing gear, meaning it is not a "highly complex aircraft". This particular non-turbocharged model is capable of cruising around 165 knots airspeed (190 mph ground speed in still air). I took the left seat and after engine start, pre-flight check, and many communications with ground control (handled by my instructor), I taxied out onto the massively wide, super-long, 747-accommodating runway at Dallas Love Field. Full power is flying power, we slowly moved down the runway, wiggling a little side to side as I got the hang of the rudders. Pulling back on the elevator, back pressure, feel the controls get mushy, pull back a little more, quiet, we're flying. Up, up, up like you're being lifted by an invisible hand. It is not like climbing in a commercial jet; instead, it feels like rising in a hot air balloon or an elevator, like going straight up but with the plane horizontal. Air traffic control (ATC) (or somebody -- there are 3 or 4 levels of control we talked to before, during and after takeoff) gave us a new heading and I gently turned to it, heading west.
Our flight was IFR -- an instrument flight rating trip. This meant we were cleared to fly through clouds, because we were being tracked by radar and given commands by ATC. Due to this, we were flying several straight-line segments rather than flying directly to Midland as we would try to do on a VFR, or visual flight rule, trip. The SR22 has a very sophisticated glass-panel instrument system which guided me to help stay at the desired altitude and heading, which I still failed to do. Josh adjusted the throttle and fuel mixture to get an ideal, efficient cruising speed of about 140 knots indicated (~160 mph). I controlled the plane and did occasional radio transmissions, which are oddly difficult (due, I think, to fear of messing up, which of course I did plenty).
Along we went, heading west at about 6000' above sea level (ASL). All around us were billowing towers of fluffy white clouds -- future thunderstorms by the looks of them. In IFR flight we were supposed to stay at our assigned altitude (6000') plus or minus 100'. I found this challenging, and we yo-yoed along, going up then down, up again... Level at about 6000', we plunged straight through clouds, losing visibility in the grey mist for a few moments before popping out into brightly-lit valleys in the clouds. Several times we just clipped the top wisps of a fluffy cloud. It was a joyous experience to be piloting a plane through this fluffy cotton wonderland. Halfway through the journey we requested and received permission to go up to 8000' ASL, which we did, but we still didn't clear the cloud tops. Josh flipped through the XM stations and handled the radio communications, and tried to show me how to adjust the trim to keep the "dynamically stable" plane on a somewhat level course, which I never mastered.
In clouds, I stared straight down at the instrument panel without looking outside. Even with a bright color display showing the exact orientation of the plane, I felt disoriented and slightly dizzy, like I was losing my feeling of where "up" was. I can see how flying into clouds as a VFR pilot is often does not end well. When out of the clouds, I tried to look outside as much as possible - which is a good VFR habit, because in VFR it is solely the pilot's job to watch for other aircraft. In IFR flight, ATC was watching out for us, as we often couldn't see outside at all due to being surrounded by a cloud. Several times I looked down to see the passing Texan countryside. I saw Abilene and noted that we were roughly following I-20 on its course from Dallas-Fort Worth to Midland-Odessa.
About 20 miles from Midland International, Josh asked if I wanted to land or handle radio communications. I took the latter, because I'm more intimidated by the radio! Also, landing (and even flying) this plane may not really help me much when flying the Diamond 20, which is the plane I normally fly and will be FAA-tested in. As I handed the plane over to Josh, he commented that he was amazed I had hand-flown the plane (without autopilot) the entire way from Dallas to Midland, with only a few ten-second breaks while I took a photo or while Josh showed me something. He said most students go to autopilot after 20 or 30 minutes. I admit, I was tired by the end of my ~2 hours piloting the plane. It takes so much brain attention, especially for a beginner like me. It consumes a tremendous amount of energy. There was also the wow-factor, trying to drink in the experience. It was almost too much to take in, and I feel like I'm still processing it now, over 24 hours later, waiting for it to hit me. Writing this blog is useful because I get to replay the facts and emotions of the experience in my mind, further cementing and allowing reflection.
Looking back, this flight from Dallas to Midland was one of the highlights of my life. Maybe that explains why I've been exhausted ever since and napping in the evening despite getting 8 hours regular sleep. Try having your brain and all your senses 100% on and 100% wide-open for almost three hours, knowing your life is on the line and you and actually, really, for real soaring through the clouds, and you can go anywhere you want. It is the ultimate feeling of freedom, bound only by nature's laws; supported entirely by man's understanding and application of those laws.
Arriving at Love Field on a Southwest 737
Sunday at 10:45 am, I boarded a Southwest 737 for the short (1 hr, 5 min) bunny hop to Dallas Love Field. 10 minutes after arrival, my instructor picked me up in an FBO courtesy car and we went for lunch at La Madeleine's, in Dallas' prestigious Preston Hollow neighborhood. It was super-humid in Dallas, which I've never visited except to drive through, and stopovers at DFW. Preston Hollow is an upscale area, everything reminding me of Houston and River Oaks. Lovely, vibrant, full of life -- in a way that Midland is not.
My ride back
Cirrus SR22, 4-seater, air-cooled 300 hp 6-cylinder engine
Plane on Love Field with Dallas skyline (vague) in background
After lunch, Josh filed our flight plan by phone and back to our FBO at Love Field we drove. The SR22 is a lovely plane, the outer skin shiny like a new car. Because planes are expensive to buy, people keep them flying a long time -- many trainers date from the 60's or 70's, like the (awesome) late-60's Comanche I flew on Saturday. The SR22 is nearly new. It is a 4-seater, single-engine, high-performance plane, with a ~300 hp 6-cylinder engine, air-cooled of course. It has an automatic mechanical variable-pitch propeller and non-retractable landing gear, meaning it is not a "highly complex aircraft". This particular non-turbocharged model is capable of cruising around 165 knots airspeed (190 mph ground speed in still air). I took the left seat and after engine start, pre-flight check, and many communications with ground control (handled by my instructor), I taxied out onto the massively wide, super-long, 747-accommodating runway at Dallas Love Field. Full power is flying power, we slowly moved down the runway, wiggling a little side to side as I got the hang of the rudders. Pulling back on the elevator, back pressure, feel the controls get mushy, pull back a little more, quiet, we're flying. Up, up, up like you're being lifted by an invisible hand. It is not like climbing in a commercial jet; instead, it feels like rising in a hot air balloon or an elevator, like going straight up but with the plane horizontal. Air traffic control (ATC) (or somebody -- there are 3 or 4 levels of control we talked to before, during and after takeoff) gave us a new heading and I gently turned to it, heading west.
Our flight was IFR -- an instrument flight rating trip. This meant we were cleared to fly through clouds, because we were being tracked by radar and given commands by ATC. Due to this, we were flying several straight-line segments rather than flying directly to Midland as we would try to do on a VFR, or visual flight rule, trip. The SR22 has a very sophisticated glass-panel instrument system which guided me to help stay at the desired altitude and heading, which I still failed to do. Josh adjusted the throttle and fuel mixture to get an ideal, efficient cruising speed of about 140 knots indicated (~160 mph). I controlled the plane and did occasional radio transmissions, which are oddly difficult (due, I think, to fear of messing up, which of course I did plenty).
Along we went, heading west at about 6000' above sea level (ASL). All around us were billowing towers of fluffy white clouds -- future thunderstorms by the looks of them. In IFR flight we were supposed to stay at our assigned altitude (6000') plus or minus 100'. I found this challenging, and we yo-yoed along, going up then down, up again... Level at about 6000', we plunged straight through clouds, losing visibility in the grey mist for a few moments before popping out into brightly-lit valleys in the clouds. Several times we just clipped the top wisps of a fluffy cloud. It was a joyous experience to be piloting a plane through this fluffy cotton wonderland. Halfway through the journey we requested and received permission to go up to 8000' ASL, which we did, but we still didn't clear the cloud tops. Josh flipped through the XM stations and handled the radio communications, and tried to show me how to adjust the trim to keep the "dynamically stable" plane on a somewhat level course, which I never mastered.
Playing in the clouds. Blur is the propeller.
The most unflattering picture of me ever; piloting the SR22
Glass instrument panels, with some standard instruments below (thankfully)
The ground down there
About 20 miles from Midland International, Josh asked if I wanted to land or handle radio communications. I took the latter, because I'm more intimidated by the radio! Also, landing (and even flying) this plane may not really help me much when flying the Diamond 20, which is the plane I normally fly and will be FAA-tested in. As I handed the plane over to Josh, he commented that he was amazed I had hand-flown the plane (without autopilot) the entire way from Dallas to Midland, with only a few ten-second breaks while I took a photo or while Josh showed me something. He said most students go to autopilot after 20 or 30 minutes. I admit, I was tired by the end of my ~2 hours piloting the plane. It takes so much brain attention, especially for a beginner like me. It consumes a tremendous amount of energy. There was also the wow-factor, trying to drink in the experience. It was almost too much to take in, and I feel like I'm still processing it now, over 24 hours later, waiting for it to hit me. Writing this blog is useful because I get to replay the facts and emotions of the experience in my mind, further cementing and allowing reflection.
Looking back, this flight from Dallas to Midland was one of the highlights of my life. Maybe that explains why I've been exhausted ever since and napping in the evening despite getting 8 hours regular sleep. Try having your brain and all your senses 100% on and 100% wide-open for almost three hours, knowing your life is on the line and you and actually, really, for real soaring through the clouds, and you can go anywhere you want. It is the ultimate feeling of freedom, bound only by nature's laws; supported entirely by man's understanding and application of those laws.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
PA-24 Piper Commanche
Bunny Hop:
Today I got to fly a Piper Comanche from Midland Int'l airport to little Odessa Schlemeyer field (ODO). I met my instructor at the GA (General Aviation) part of MAF airport. And we did a quick pre-flight. Nearby were parked several Black Hawk helicopters, and right next to us a Navy training prop plane was doing some type of very extended pre-flight or ground test, or something.
The PA-24 is a pretty big 4-seater. It is a high-performance (>200 hp) and high-complexity plane (flaps, retractable landing gear, and variable-pitch propeller). We started the plane and called into several layers of ground traffic and air traffic control. I couldn't understand what they were saying, so Josh handled most of that. We were then cleared to taxi, which I did. The big Comanche was much, much easier to steer (with foot pedals) than the touchy Diamond 20 I normally fly. It was a pleasant plane. We approached our approved runway and stopped just short of it to do our "run-up", which are some tests before actually taking off. We sat there a little while, finicking with the magnetos -- it seemed like one cylinder was not firing correctly. Then the tower came on and told us there was a 737 waiting behind us!!! Sure enough, as I turned out onto the runway I saw a big blue, red and gold Southwest 737 right behind us! That was a thrill. Full throttle and we gained speed, pulled back on the elevator until it felt mushy, then the hush as we left the ground and took to the sky. Taking off feels weird to me, like we are climbing at a very steep rate or, rather, being lifted into the sky. Not long after taking off the tower told us to turn left to heading 2-3-0, and I complied, with full knowledge there was a 737 coming right after me! We headed off toward ODO and circled around the airport to get a landing into the wind. Josh controlled the throttle, propeller pitch, and flaps as I focused on the three directional controls -- that is, aiming toward the runway. 31-knot gusting crosswinds -- wow.
After the flight I had a huge headache. We taxied to the plane's hangar and put it away with a neat power thing that looked kinda like a lawnmower with one big wheel. Then back to the airport main building (lounge?) to do some pre-solo ground school. I need my medical certificate, then I will be able to solo... soon. In the meantime, we will do some cross-country flying; first to Midland and then to Andrews? In a few weeks I want to fly the Diamond 20 down to Terlingua, check out my land, and fly around the National Park. That will be a big adventure!
So will my next adventure... I'll be flying to Dallas tomorrow on Southwest and flying a Cirrus back to Midland. Very exciting times.
Today I got to fly a Piper Comanche from Midland Int'l airport to little Odessa Schlemeyer field (ODO). I met my instructor at the GA (General Aviation) part of MAF airport. And we did a quick pre-flight. Nearby were parked several Black Hawk helicopters, and right next to us a Navy training prop plane was doing some type of very extended pre-flight or ground test, or something.
PA-24. A late 60's/early 70's plane. Note Blackhawk helicopters in background!
The PA-24 is a pretty big 4-seater. It is a high-performance (>200 hp) and high-complexity plane (flaps, retractable landing gear, and variable-pitch propeller). We started the plane and called into several layers of ground traffic and air traffic control. I couldn't understand what they were saying, so Josh handled most of that. We were then cleared to taxi, which I did. The big Comanche was much, much easier to steer (with foot pedals) than the touchy Diamond 20 I normally fly. It was a pleasant plane. We approached our approved runway and stopped just short of it to do our "run-up", which are some tests before actually taking off. We sat there a little while, finicking with the magnetos -- it seemed like one cylinder was not firing correctly. Then the tower came on and told us there was a 737 waiting behind us!!! Sure enough, as I turned out onto the runway I saw a big blue, red and gold Southwest 737 right behind us! That was a thrill. Full throttle and we gained speed, pulled back on the elevator until it felt mushy, then the hush as we left the ground and took to the sky. Taking off feels weird to me, like we are climbing at a very steep rate or, rather, being lifted into the sky. Not long after taking off the tower told us to turn left to heading 2-3-0, and I complied, with full knowledge there was a 737 coming right after me! We headed off toward ODO and circled around the airport to get a landing into the wind. Josh controlled the throttle, propeller pitch, and flaps as I focused on the three directional controls -- that is, aiming toward the runway. 31-knot gusting crosswinds -- wow.
This is a big stinkin' plane!
After the flight I had a huge headache. We taxied to the plane's hangar and put it away with a neat power thing that looked kinda like a lawnmower with one big wheel. Then back to the airport main building (lounge?) to do some pre-solo ground school. I need my medical certificate, then I will be able to solo... soon. In the meantime, we will do some cross-country flying; first to Midland and then to Andrews? In a few weeks I want to fly the Diamond 20 down to Terlingua, check out my land, and fly around the National Park. That will be a big adventure!
So will my next adventure... I'll be flying to Dallas tomorrow on Southwest and flying a Cirrus back to Midland. Very exciting times.
Safe on the ground at ODO.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Seventh Lesson
Today was my seventh flight lesson at Schlemeyer Field in Odessa, TX. It was the most stressful and least fun so far. Takes-offs, pattern, and landing. Brisk wind from the east. Runway 11. Take-off is ok, I still have trouble steering (feet -- rudders) and putting correct back-pressure on elevator. If you try to take off too soon (slow), you can stall and crash back into the runway. ODO is a left-hand pattern so we turn left, left, left and do on the downwind leg past the airport. I can see it off to my left. Past the end of the runway a way, turn left (base), then left again. "Schlemeyer traffic, 497 Papa Alpha final for runway one-one." Full flaps, judge how high, full flaps in. Today we came in a little slow most of the time. Strong headwind makes for a steep descent to the runway. I have trouble with the last 20 vertical feet. So much is going on, and so much can go wrong. I flare too early -- that is, I point the nose up too soon to slow down and descend to the runway. Flaring slows the plane down a lot, and eventually it will crash down to the runway vertically - not good. I had some ok landings but I'm trying to bring everything together and it isn't "automatic" yet. It takes too much brain power and one thing going awry takes away my attention from everything else -- not good. A frustrating lesson, but that makes me think I'm learning and it might be better next time. Discussed a cross-country trip with my instructor down to Laquitas and over my Big Bend property.
This was my first flight (piloting) in over a week - lots going on this week. I did get to fly (as a passenger) to Carlsbad on the company's Beechcraft King Air 350.
This was my first flight (piloting) in over a week - lots going on this week. I did get to fly (as a passenger) to Carlsbad on the company's Beechcraft King Air 350.
This cute little plane was parked outside the airport office. It's an Encoupe or something like that. A 2-seater that is pretty cheap to buy. Like ~$10-15k.
Wednesday, May 04, 2011
Andy's Ranch
Over Easter weekend, I finally decided to make the trip down to my land on Terlingua Ranch. It was Sabkha and me in the Tacoma. We left on Thursday before Good Friday, around 7 PM. I passed most of the burned stuff (near Alpine, TX) after dusk, but I could see burned grass at the edge of the road. Also just south of I-10 I saw a big plume of smoke coming off the northern end of the Davis Mountains. Not sure my planning was that great, as we arrived in the Study Butte area well after dark. I turned onto South County Road with only my memory of my single trip to my land to guide me. Well, that and a couple hours of exploring the Solitario district on Google Maps. We managed to find it despite the very dark moonless evening. There isn't a great pullout on my property -- road just crosses it parallel to a dry wash -- so I continued on and parked at the property just to the north. The night was hot and windy. Donning my headlamp, I could see clouds of dust whirling past in the LED light. All around me were glittering gems on the ground -- I knew from experience these were spider's eyes. Sure enough, I tracked one to the source and found a big wolf-spider but with a pointy wasp-like butt -- ewwwww. Creep out city. It was around 11 PM. I set up our beds in the bed of the truck and we went to sleep.
In the earliest light of morning, Sabkha was nudging me and licking my face to wake me up. This is her typical camping-out behavior. I got up to see a gorgeous sunrise over the Chisos Mountains in Big Bend National Park. The dome-shaped mountain in the middleground is Pink's Peak.
The night was cool enough for a sleeping bag, but the day warmed up quickly. Worst, it was humid and felt yucky even at 7 am. It has that Tucson-monsoon feeling, where you could tell it was going to be a hot, unpleasant day and the mere thought of that ruined the morning, too.
Sabkha and I set off on a surveying walk. We first found the NW corner of the property, where I found a professional survey marker. Was my tract surveyed previously? Or one of the other three tracts that meet at this corner? I walked back east, following a due E-W line according to my GPS, and making cairns along the way to mark the property boundary.
I had the strange sensation of looking at beautiful Chihuahuan desert plants and cool volcanic rocks and thinking "I own those!". Then, looking around at the vast landscape, I realized it didn't really matter to anyone but me. The plants and rocks certainly didn't care... and the rocks will be sitting there long after I'm gone.
Down the hill and across the road to the east, down into the wash, up the next hillside we found the NE corner. There was no survey marker, but a pile of rocks and about twenty pieces of flagging tied into a creosote bush. The northing was off from the NW corner. Either the tracts and not square, or the edges do not run true E-W, or I was using a different projection, or something. But it was only a few tens of feet off.
It was time for a break. We went into town for some coffee and breakfast at Espresso y Poco Mas, my favorite Terlingua morning place despite the new, higher prices. A nice place to sit, eat, sit, and browse the web on the free wifi. The drive in or out on the best route (not shortest but fastest route) is 30 minutes driving at normalish speed. It would be tough to shorten the drive much from that without driving crazily. After bfast we went back to Andy's Ranch. The drive is fun and scenic. It is not Miata-able, but it is Subaru-able. 4WD is not required, and normal clearance could do it, likely with no damage to the car. There are a few steep, rocky parts though.
Back at Andy's Ranch, the next order of business was a parking spot. I found a pull-off that had been used by a bulldozer, probably over a decade ago. It went steeply up the hill over a rocky "step" in the Cretaceous limestone. With the shovel I cleared all the lechuigilla and trimmed back a few creosote bushes. Then, in 4-Lo I was able to inch the truck up over the rock shelf and onto a parking area. Not as flat as I'd like, but it works for now. I was tempted to keep going up the hill to the top, but the vegetation would certainly wreck my P-rated tires. Plus I really don't want a road to the top.
My little parking spot on Andy's Ranch
Next I made a few cairns where my (approx) property boundary crossed the road, and I hunted for fossils a bit. I found a cool nautilus cast, but threw it aside, thinking it wasn't that great. Then of course I found nothing like it again, and I couldn't locate the original find. Maybe next time. It was nice to be able to collect rocks or fossils and not worry about getting arrested by some park ranger.
Road across Andy's Ranch
After a break and a cold beer or two, I set out to find the SW corner. This involved hiking to the top of Andy's Ridge and down the west side, almost to the base. It was getting pretty hot and Sabkha was hanging out under the truck, and didn't look too well. Panting, lethargic. She didn't seem interested in joining me on the search for SW corner, so I left her there, untied in case she changed her mind. Halfway up the loose rock of the hillside, I saw Sabkha below me, crossing the hillside, going away from me and the truck. She often finds her own way up, so I didn't think much of it. On top, I get good cell coverage so I checked my work email, and called my parents. On top I saw some large chunks of unidentified scat. Big mountain lion? I'll have to snap a photo and see what the Llano Estacado Master Nats think. About this time I realized I still hadn't seen Sabkha. Concerned for her, I went back east down the hill (without finding the SW corner). A few times I heard yelps, but wasn't sure. Then I saw Sabkha, in the middle of a bunch of cacti, tail between her legs and not looking happy. She clearly had had a seizure and fallen into the cacti. I grabbed her out and she went into her seizure mode. She kept sitting on cacti like it didn't hurt her. I walked/carried/dragged her back to the truck. The episode upset me. It was getting hot, and the only cool place was the truck with the A/C running. I piled her in and we went out for a drive, exploring some of the less-trodden roads of Terlingua Ranch.
The next day, Saturday, we got up early again and walked some of the ranch roads near my property. I found the SE corner of the tract, also professionally marked, and made more cairns along boundaries. It was again too hot to do much, and I was still worried about Sabkha, so we again went into the Ghost Town for breakfast and internet. Then we drove over to the national park, back to Study Butte and toward TR HQ, across on dirt from 118 to US 385. Then back north on 385.
A recent mass-wasting deposit along US 385 in BB National Park
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Touch and go
Flight lesson #3 today at Odessa Schlemeyer Field. Drove the Tacoma over so I could listen to Alt Nation on XM, my new favorite radio station after the trip to Big Bend Fri-Sat. After normal preflight, we took off on runway 34 into a gentle north wind. Pulling up too hard upon takeoff we experienced the stall horn, but safely lower the nose to a safer angle of attack. Flew out north of Odessa and practiced ground reference maneuvers: "S" turns; flying in a constant-radius circle; and a large rectangle. I still have some trouble maintaining altitude while manuevering. Turning tends to make the aircraft sink; need to keep back pressure on elevator to avoid this. When ending a turn, then, there is a tendency to continue back pressure which results in gaining altitude. I do it nearly every time. Back south toward the airport, Josh (instructor) had me do a left turn to approach runway 34. I was looking at the wrong runway so we went around. On pass #2 I came in too high and fast. Approaching to land is a bit complicated; there is so much happening at once. The objective is to reduce speed and reduce altitude at the same time; normally these actions are opposed (falling tends to increase airspeed). So landing involves the following steps (my current understanding):
- maintain altitude (4000' ASL) and reduce power (2000 rpm)
- At a safe speed, lower flaps to TO (middle) position
- After passing end of runway, reduce power again (1750 rpm)
- At a safe speed (white arc), lower flaps to down position
- Turn 180 degrees into final approach
- Maintain speed above 60 knots, ideally ~70 knots
- Reduce power to idle if necessary
- Aim for runway; maintain speed and continue to lose alitude
- As the aircraft sinks into the runway, pull back on elevator to control the sink rate
Step 9 is the most difficult. Everything is happening, and you're just a few feet off the ground, but still flying at 70 knots (~80 mph). Control movements need to be pretty extreme (I think). The next steps, by the way, involved touching down, then keeping the nose up (but not too much), and slowing down until you're not flying anymore. Then keep steering with the rudder pedals and coast to near the end of the runway, where brakes are applied. Throttle at idle if not already.
On my first attempt I came in too high, and instructor decided to do a go-around. Back to full power, gentle back pressure on elevator until well above stall speed; climb out, go around. Our second attempt was a touch-and-go, where we made contact but continued and took off again; the third time was a charm and I landed it ok. Really a little hard but not bad.
Cockpit of the Diamond 20. Student sits on left (captain's seat).
Controls:
- stick (center of seats) - controls pitch (nose up/down) and roll (wing up/down)
- rudder pedals (in foot well) - controls yaw (nose left and right)
- In center divider (silver):
- far right = fuel mixture control
- center = throttle
Other things I look at are the altimeter; the climb rate indicator; the airspeed indicator; and the tachometer.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Kermit Dunes
About 60 miles due west of Midland, near the part of Texas where the corner of New Mexico juts in, is the little town of Kermit, TX. Northeast of Kermit about 10 miles is a pod of dunes (you can find them on Google Maps satellite view -- see map below for a marker at the parking area). It is similar in shape and orientation to the dunes near Monahans, TX, along I-20. A few square miles of the Kermit dunes are open as an off-road recreation area. ATVs and motorcycles are allowed. Overnight camping is also allowed for a fee; there are no facilities or water. The day-use fee is $10 per day per adult rider. The gate is open on weekends; it is often closed on weekdays but I've never seen it actually locked. If it is locked, there is a phone number either near the gate or on the "rules" board facing the parking area.
View Kermit Dunes OHV Area in a larger map
Last Sunday it was a cool day. In the late afternoon I loaded up the truck with my Honda 230 and headed out to Kermit. My roommate Terra rode with me and other rider Mau drove his truck with his Honda 250. We got to the dunes around 4 PM. The parking lot was nearly deserted. This is the same time I liked to ride in Sam Houston Nat. Forest north of Houston. Everyone heads home Sunday just after noon. In the afternoon and evening, you've got the place mostly to yourself.
Terra was just along for the ride, so she set up a chair in the parking lot and read a book or something. Mau and I tore off into the dunes.
Dune riding can be pure joy. Again, I had some moments of perfection. Cruising around a sand bowl, feels like you're floating. Tearing in any direction. No trails, just go.
Mau was doing some jumps. I was practicing riding down steep dunes faces, and practicing getting unstuck. The wind started to pick up and we were getting sandblasted. Waves of sand came off the peaks of the dunes. If you approached a dune crest from the lee side, you got a face full of sand.
My bike had an electrical problem and wouldn't start after I stalled it. Thankfully Mau had a tool kit along and we were able to jiggle some wires until it would start. That would have been a long walk back to the parking lot -- and it would be impossible to push the bike back. Would have to fetch some tools and work on it out there.
Back at the lot, Terra wanted to try. So she rode the 230, which has been a learning bike for many people, myself included. She did pretty good and soon rode off down the sandy trail with Mau. In first gear of course. After five minutes I heard them coming back, then saw them riding toward me on a road a few hundred feet away. Terra went behind a dune, then Mau went behind. I heard Mau's engine shut off and I didn't see anyone come out the other side of the dune. I ran over there. Terra had wrecked and hit her face on the sand. Thankfully she was wearing my helmet. She got a few bruises.
The photos above don't do the area justice. There was so much blowing sand, I didn't dare take my camera riding. On a less windy day I'll get some riding shots and video.
Mau and I went back out on the dunes for another hour or so of blasting around. Pure joy. It's so rare, and here I've found a source of it, just an hour's drive away from Midland.
View Kermit Dunes OHV Area in a larger map
Kermit Dunes parking area. Dunes to the right.
Last Sunday it was a cool day. In the late afternoon I loaded up the truck with my Honda 230 and headed out to Kermit. My roommate Terra rode with me and other rider Mau drove his truck with his Honda 250. We got to the dunes around 4 PM. The parking lot was nearly deserted. This is the same time I liked to ride in Sam Houston Nat. Forest north of Houston. Everyone heads home Sunday just after noon. In the afternoon and evening, you've got the place mostly to yourself.
Tracks in the sand
Terra was just along for the ride, so she set up a chair in the parking lot and read a book or something. Mau and I tore off into the dunes.
Dune riding can be pure joy. Again, I had some moments of perfection. Cruising around a sand bowl, feels like you're floating. Tearing in any direction. No trails, just go.
Mau was doing some jumps. I was practicing riding down steep dunes faces, and practicing getting unstuck. The wind started to pick up and we were getting sandblasted. Waves of sand came off the peaks of the dunes. If you approached a dune crest from the lee side, you got a face full of sand.
My bike had an electrical problem and wouldn't start after I stalled it. Thankfully Mau had a tool kit along and we were able to jiggle some wires until it would start. That would have been a long walk back to the parking lot -- and it would be impossible to push the bike back. Would have to fetch some tools and work on it out there.
Back at the lot, Terra wanted to try. So she rode the 230, which has been a learning bike for many people, myself included. She did pretty good and soon rode off down the sandy trail with Mau. In first gear of course. After five minutes I heard them coming back, then saw them riding toward me on a road a few hundred feet away. Terra went behind a dune, then Mau went behind. I heard Mau's engine shut off and I didn't see anyone come out the other side of the dune. I ran over there. Terra had wrecked and hit her face on the sand. Thankfully she was wearing my helmet. She got a few bruises.
The photos above don't do the area justice. There was so much blowing sand, I didn't dare take my camera riding. On a less windy day I'll get some riding shots and video.
Waiting for our Sonic after-riding meal.
Stopping at Sonic in Kermit for a foot-long chili dog is an after-ride tradition.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Heavier than Air
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Take off, eh!
Today, my first real flight lesson. I've taken three "discovery" flights and I've flown in a glider. Now I'm going for it -- I'm working to get my Private Pilot License. Yeah!
I tried to fly on Thursday evening, but it was too windy. It's always windy in West Texas, but the wind didn't line up with any of the runways. So we didn't fly that day.
I'm taking lessons at Odessa-Schlemeyer Field in Odessa, TX. It's about a 25-minute drive from my house in Midland. The flight school there uses a Diamond DA-20. This is a 2-seater plane unlike the Cessna 172 used by most schools. The Diamond is also much lighter and more glider-like:
Today was windy too, but it was out of the south, which lines up well with a runway. The south wind was bringing in smoke from the Rockhouse Fire burning down near Fort Davis, Texas. Visibility was not great.
After our pre-flight check we hopped in the plane and taxied to the runway, where we did another series of pre-flight checks. The engine is fuel-injected and the plane is fairly new, so it was much easier than the carbureted engines in the old Cessnas. Everything seemed pretty familiar. The stick (vs yoke controls) was something new.
We had the engine on for 8/10 of an hour (that's how they charge -- engine-on time), and flew around Odessa. I did some fairly sharp turns with yoke + rudder, and adjusted the throttle, maintained altitude and used the GPS a little. Also worked on controlling airspeed, gaining and losing altitude, and doing a traffic pattern to prepare us for a landing. Lots of fun! Next lesson on Tuesday, wind permitting...
Sunday, April 03, 2011
San Angelo, TX
Spring Break. Debi couldn't find anything in hill country near Austin or San Antonio. She was going up near DFW. I said, why not come out my way? San Angelo is about two hours east of Midland, and about six hours west of Houston. That sounded like a good compromise to me!
I loaded up the bikes on my trailer and towed it behind the Tacoma down to San Angelo on Saturday afternoon. Debi's ETA was 5 PM. I drove around a bit, trying to get the lay of the land. Sabkha and I hiked around some water below a dam, which turned out to be the Twin Buttes reservoir dam.
Debi showed up with her Mitsubishi Outlander (a really good car except for the mediocre interior), with Mary and a pop-up camper in tow. (Please note: Mary was in the car, not actually being towed --Ed.). We set up camp in the north section of San Angelo State Park, and it was nice enough, although we weren't on the lake. It was basically a giant field full of prickers and burrs, with a few groves of trees around the edges. The southern section of the state park is more desirable if you want a lake and/or a view.
We hung out at camp and Mary played with the neighbor kids, who were camped about 18 inches away. The family (or two families?) had about 15 kids, although they were difficult to count because they were always moving so fast. We took a drive into town around dinnertime in the new truck. Debi hadn't seen it before because I bought it on the NW side of Houston and immediately drove it straight to Midland.
As usual, the day after Saturday was Sunday. We went for a hike in the southern part of San Angelo State Park. It was dry country (hasn't rained out here for over six months), but we identified plenty of desert plants. The day was warm and windy.
Hikers
Flower observed on hike, San Angelo State Park
Master Naturalist (in progress) Dr. Andrew McCarthy gestures at a plant
Mary explores a deer blind
Parasitic plant on another plant
Flowering plant
Mary chases a duck along the Concho River
I check out some statues on the river in San Angelo
Odessa has the rabbit; San Angelo has the sheep. They're everywhere.
Cool building, San Angelo, TX.
Mother and daughter
"Hey guys!!!!" ... snap
Mary pretended she got ran over... or was she micro-napping?
"One of these shops HAS to be open!"
We checked out a nice little local coffee shop, Baker Street Cafe, then drove over to Lake Nasworthy. This clay-blue lake was completely full and is clearly regulated by outlets from the two lakes higher up the Concho River. Looks like a great place to jet-ski. Soon.
Me and Mary and Sab; Lake Nasworthy.
We walked out onto a dock, watched some prairie dogs, then headed back to camp for dinner. Mary and Sabkha and I walked around the campground and discovered a little pond about 100 feet from the camper. The water was lovely and blue. This was actually part of a stream that was not flowing. We had a great time throwing sticks into the water for Sabkha to fetch.
Sabkha fetches
Down by the pond
"Mary of the Trees" - artistic photo
Monday we finally got geared up to go riding (dirt biking). We headed over to Twin Buttes, on the south side of the reservoir. We tested out the new Tacoma by driving up a steep hill. 4LO didn't get us up, but the rear locker did, no problem. At the time I didn't know you had to actually activate A-TRAC with a button while in 4LO, so didn't try it. We also did a number of stream crossings that seemed dangerous at first but really were pretty pedestrian. Debi in particular enjoyed off-roading in the truck and soon declared "I want one."
It was way steeper than it looks. Mary was highly concerned.
Fun.
Stopped and pulled the bikes off the trailer. The Yamaha would not start -- dead battery? I usually carry my charger but of course didn't have it on this trip. It was dead as a doornail. The Honda started right up, so we took turns riding that and Debi did some practice to get the rust off. Then I took the Honda and did some trail riding while Debi drove the Tacoma and Mary rode with her. What fun! I did some stream crossings on the Honda and was surprised what I could ride through. The area we were in is not the official bike trail area; that is on the north side of the reservoir. But I didn't know that at the time. It was great fun to ride the two-tracks. Debi took a turn too, and Mary rode around a little with us at low speeds.
Prepping to ride. Twin Buttes Res in background.
Mary on the shores of Twin Buttes Reservoir
Mary tries out the Honda
Debi is ready to ride, with her new helmet
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