Inverted Is How I Roll

Growing up, there were certain things that my Mum told me she wanted to know about only after they had happened. Although not specifically mentioned, I decided that this morning's activity would be one of those things... so, surprise! I had my first aerobatic lesson today!!

It was awesome! I got to fly a beautiful red and blue Super Decathlon taildragger, instructed by the amazing Adam Cope. Although I don't usually blog about instructional flights, I'm going to have to make an exception for my aerobatics training.

After I arrived at the Potomac Airfield (VKX), Adam explained the basic maneuvers we would be practicing, gave me a safety briefing, helped me strap on my parachute, and then walked me through the differences between the Super Decathlon and the planes I'm used to flying. Most notably, Adam would be sitting behind me, where he would have access to only limited controls. Gone also was my yoke, replaced by a stick. Top Gun, I thought, here I come ...

Once we got airborne and clear of the FRZ, we started with loops. Adam talked me through the maneuver, but kept his hands off the controls. No, my loops were not circular, and yes, the plane lost momentum at the top sometimes, but I was pretty chuffed with my egg shaped loops (for now, anyhow).

Next came aileron rolls. Left first, because it's easier to push than to pull, and then to the right. Part way through, I moved over to double handing the stick to get more force behind the entry to the maneuver. Being tentative with the controls makes for poor maneuvers, so it was time to get tough.

Adam then stepped it up to primary rolls, which required me to be doing/thinking about more things during the roll. As a result, they were faster and smoother than aileron rolls. At least, when done correctly!

We also practiced inverted flight. Catch 120 knots, nose up, roll hard, neutralize, forward, and, HOLD! It was unbelieveable!! The Super Decathlon can maintain two minutes of inverted flight, so the manuever was not rushed. There was time to just float, suspended by your harness. Seeing the world upside down, hanging like a possum, the mind adapted surprisingly quickly. Click on the play button to watch a short video of inverted flight. (Adam's going to bring a camera that can be mounted next time.)



After inverted flight, I was supposed to do a loop and then a roll after leveling out at the bottom of the loop. Well, instead I invented "the McMaster." Adam noted that the McMaster was a cool way to turn 180 degrees, and that I should remember what I'd done because "that's how new aerobatic moves are created," but it wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind. So, I did the McMaster again, just to make sure I really had it down pat. The third time, I managed to do something resembling a loop and a roll at the bottom.

Adam had warned me that motion sickness would come on quickly, and asked that I volunteer as soon as I began to feel unwell. Although I could have done with a bit more sleep last night, the drammamine I picked up en route to the airport must have been key, as I continued to feel fine, despite my wacky and uncoordinated 4G maneuvers. So, we went back to practicing rolls for a while, with more emphasis on holding the plane inverted at the proper pitch so I could get used to the placement of the plane in relation to the (upside down) horizon.

Adam eventually congratulated me on making it a full hour, and suggested we head for home. He then talked me through landing a taildragger, which was very different than landing a nose wheel. Back in his hangar, Adam and I discussed the primary maneuver for my next lesson -- a slow roll. Although we haven't set a date yet, I'm already looking forward to it!

Luray for the Day with Tamlyn

Saturday was a great day. Tamlyn had arrived from Montreal the night before, and Saturday dawned as clear and beautiful as forecast. We headed out to the airport cafe and met Kevin, Tracy, Evie, Rich and Eddie for breakfast. Kevin soon informed me that Evie, in response to the question, "Do you want to go flying in Aunty Amy's plane?" had responded, "Yep," without any hesitation. She's still a bit young, but I can't wait to have a little co-pilot one of these days!

After breakfast, Tamlyn and I made our way over to Rich's hangar to await Greg's return from his x-country lesson in the Tiger. We helped Rich install a light in the Baron (if you hang around an airport long enough, somebody puts you to work!), got chased around by Eddie, and were just starting to sweep the hangar when we were saved by the bell. Er, Tiger.

By far my most small plane experienced friend (Tamlyn's "other job" is as a sky nurse), she was relaxed and comfortable, and proved herself to be as addicted to photography as I am. She also proscribed to the theory that "tilted is artsy" and brought an adorable Canadian addition to keep Tiny Tiger company during the flight. No wonder people used to ask us if we were twins.

After we got out from under the restricted airspace around D.C., I let Tamlyn try her hand at the yoke. She was a natural! Not only was she able to hold straight and level flight, but she soon got the hang of the GPS unit and gentle banks, and flew us along for nearly fifteen minutes. I sat back and took photos of her flying, while she followed the Shenandoah River South to the Luray Caverns.

When we arrived, we were greeted by the ever-friendly, incredibly helpful airport staff at W45. Karyn picked us up from the plane, took our photo, dropped us off at the caverns, and then gave us her business card to call for a pick-up when we were ready to depart.

I was happy to learn that guided tours were no longer mandatory at the caverns, having been replaced by self-guided audio tours. Tamlyn took an audio thingy, but soon turned it off as we made our way through the caverns and began giving our own names to the more prominent stalactites and stalagmites.

Never ones to shy from the camera, or to want for funny photo ideas, the caverns provided us with plenty of fodder...

Of course, most of them aren't suitable for public distribution. But some things never change, eh?

After the caverns, we decided to skip the antique car museum and gift shop to get back to D.C. in time for some night time activities. We didn't skip the ice cream, of course, but a girl's got to have priorities.

With only some moderate turbulence to remind us that we were actually flying, it was a beautiful run up the mountain valley and home.

As we came in over Harper's ferry, we had to circle a few times before Potomac Approach got back to us with our squawk, and then a few more times before we were notified that our transponder had been observed and were given clearance to proceed into restricted airspace.

You call that a standard rate turn, McMaster?! Yikes. Good thing neither of us is prone to motion sickness... um, Tamlyn?

Light winds at Gaithersburg made for an easy landing. It's always nice to have good conditions the first time you fly a friend. It's so much easier to make it look like you know what you're doing!

As I was tying down the Tiger, Tamlyn asked me if it was "alright" if I took some extra photos of her in the plane.

I couldn't have been happier to oblige. After all, what are (aviation obsessed) best friends for?!

Boston Bound

My colleague, Brian, stuck his head in my office a few Friday afternoons ago and asked loudly, while feigning surprise, "What?! Not flying somewhere this weekend?!"

Admittedly, it had been a fast-paced few weeks with trips to Chicago, Moline and Detroit, but I simply smiled and informed him, "Actually, I'm meeting Rich at the airport at 8:00. We're flying to Boston with a couple of his friends."

"You're ridiculous," he informed me, and then grinned. "Have fun."

We arrived around 10:30 after a beautiful night flight, with fantastic views of NYC, and promptly managed to get lost driving to our hotel. As we were pondering our predicament, Rich spied a cop car in a parking lot. He pulled up alongside him and I hopped out, MapQuest directions in hand, and explained how Rich had missed Exit #13 and gotten us lost. The cop looked at me, looked at Rich, and commented nonchalantly, but loud enough for Rich to hear, "There is no Exit 13."

As their laughter subsided, the cop attempted to walk me through the (complicated) process of getting to our hotel. Eventually, after I tossed my hair around a few times for good measure, he sighed and said, "Just follow me."

And voila! Rich and I had a police escort all the way to our hotel. (If you go 60 MPH in a 35 to keep up with a police escort, it would be entrapment for another cop to pull you over, right?) After checking in, we headed to the local Harvard bar scene in Cambridge. As we surveyed our fellow patrons, Rich commented, "We are definitely the dumbest people in this bar." I wasn't so sure. There have to be at least a few trust fund babies at Ha-vard.

"How do you like d'em apples?!"

Rich spent most of Saturday trying to remember which radio station requests that its listeners call in and report creepy men driving around in Seabring Convertibles. (Yes, he wanted to report himself.) Because we all know there's cool, and then there's Seabring Double-Popped Collars Convertible cool.

I wanted to report Rich for making me listen (loudly) to Vanilla Ice and Billy Ocean with the top down, while cruising around Boston. Eddie, however, was a big fan of the convertible. Except, of course, when it was actually converting. Then vaulting into my lap looked much more appealing. And I wonder why I'm always covered in bruises.

We spent the day exploring the North End, watching planes land at Logan, checking out an open-air produce market, reinacting important moments in American history, chatting with some rough and tumble locals (mostly to hear their crazy mix of Italian/Bostonian accents), walking the Harvard campus, dining at an Italian joint back in the North End, and then meeting up with Junelle, Tara and John for aperitifs. Unwitting spectators to a 3 a.m. cat fight rounded out our night, as we finally persuaded a cabbie to take us back to our hotel.

Sunday was an early start, as Junelle needed to get back to DC in time for a dress rehearsal of the Vagina Monologues. Rich took off in tough IFR conditions, and we were pleasantly surprised to get out on top of the clouds around 7,000 feet. Much to the boys' amusement, I read lines while Junelle rehearsed her role as we flew along.

By the time we reached Baltimore, Rich was able to cancel IFR and I was able to capture my first photos of the flight.

Stepping out of the plane in Gaithersburg, it felt like we had flown to another world in just three short hours. It was hot, humid and sunny. Quite the contrast to the cold, rainy day we had left behind in Boston. It also felt like we had been gone much longer than 36 hours. Another successful weekend adventure, complete!

I Remember When

My final year of highschool, I worked on our student yearbook, including the section called "I Remember When..." It was an enjoyable section to write, as other peoples' memories often triggered long-forgotten memories of my own. As Greg and I were flying the Tiger over Ohio a few Mondays ago, on our second business trip to Detroit, Greg noted, "Now that we've done it twice, it's like the thing we used to do. When we're old, we can look back and say, remember when we used to fly the Tiger to Detroit for business?" I agreed. "Yeah, very cool."

Made all the cooler, of course, by our tiny tigerS. TigerS you say? Why yes, indeed. After Greg kidnapped my tiny tiger and I threw a fit in front of Greg's instrument instructor because Greg refused to return him to me, John apparently decided that Greg had kidnapped tiny tiger because he was secretly hankering for one of his own. (John IS quite insightful.) So, voila! John bought Greg his very own (albino) tiny tiger.

And then there were two.

There were some good jolts of turbulence as we flew over Maryland, and as I synched my seatbelt tighter, Greg lamented that he had already hit his head several times.

Perhaps it was the distraction of the turbulence, but it was not until I attempted to place the tiny tigers on Greg's shoulder and take a picture that he seemingly became aware of their presence. (Yes, they had been sitting on the dashboard the entire time. Yes, that's really the container of milk you swore was not in the fridge when you looked five seconds ago.) At first, Greg tried to open the canopy to toss them outside. Failing that, he did his best to glare at me while still flying straight and level. I did my best to capture the moment on film, while still keeping the tiny tigers just out of arm's reach. Not an easy task, but I've had 31 years of experience tormenting my older brother, so I am quite skilled at such endeavors.

Not touching, not touching ...

As we (I) settled into the flight, familiar views of Harper's Ferry were traded for the increasingly-familiar views of Johnstown, Pennsylvania.

Hard at work on his instrument rating, Greg's primary goal during the crosscountry was to log as much instruments time as possible. So, I was the "lookout" while he flew "under the hood." I could still talk to him, although it is a little odd to talk to someone who never makes eye contact. There were certain advantages, of course...

The haze lifted as the sun settled lower in the sky and I worked on my photography for a while and then got quizzed by Greg on instrument approach plates and procedures.

Cleveland eventually appeared at the edge of Lake Erie and our trip across the lake made for some nice shots.

Although Greg couldn't see it, the sun setting over the water was beautiful. It was also possible to see all the way across Lake Erie, whereas the last time we'd flown the route, haze had obscured the horizon. Only once or twice did Greg test my lack of fear of flying by deviating from straight and level as he flew us over the lake (while still under the hood).

Soon enough, we were crossing over Ontario.

We discussed how much it would likely cost to buy the below spit of land and build a runway. I later realized it's a national park, so there might be a few environmental permit problems, but it really would be a beautiful spot for a runway.

As we came into Detroit, Greg got clearance from the Tower to do an instrument approach. It was an interesting experience as the co-pilot. I debated in my head how far from "on the ball" I would be comfortable letting Greg get before insisting that he take off the hood and correct the situation. Fortunately, Greg didn't test my limits and landed us easily at KDET.

Greg was scheduled to argue two motions and I was scheduled to argue one the following afternoon. The weather was deteriorating by the time we arrived at the Court house. We were soon informed that, naturally, the Judge was also running late. With an eye towards both the weather and my desire to argue the motion I had so diligently prepared for, I was of mixed emotions when the Judge announced that he would hear Greg's two motions and reserve mine to a later date.

At the end of the hearing, the Judge engaged us in conversation. When asked after our travel plans, Greg noted that we were both pilots and would be flying ourselves back to D.C. The Baliff looked so shocked at Greg's statement that I laughed, which caused co-counsel to say "You're joking!" This, of course, only made me laugh harder. When we finally convinced everyone that we were both actually pilots and that the weather was rapidly deteriorating, we were literally ordered to high-tail it to the airport and get ourselves home.

I snapped the above and below UFO'ey pictures after we'd landed at KDET, and I included them here because I WANT TO BELIEVE...

When we got back to KDET, we fueled up, and I prepared to fly my "I'm hard on you because it's good for you" AOPA mentor for the first time. Good thing there were 30+ knot winds to help make sure my take-off was textbook clean ... or not. Damn that ball!

As I climbed up over Lake Erie, I demanded that Greg take a few shots of Detroit, as the conditions had never been so clear. He humored me, and then hunkered down to assume the role of lookout as I flew instruments home. Flying with another pilot can be a great learning experience, and my flight with Greg was no exception. He knows the Tiger and her instruments better than I do, and with the exception of a one exasperated "I KNOW!", which got me a "GOOD LORD, MCMASTER!" in return, we managed to not yell at each other the entire flight.

Dusk faded to dark somewhere over Ohio. Comfortably ahead of the storm, we had a nice tailwind pushing us along, city lights twinkling and winking at us, and we were home before ten. As we came into Gaithersburg, Greg, foreshadowing his future as a CFI, talked me through a straight-in approach on runway 14, which I will be practicing a lot of once I start my instrument training in earnest. As we tied down the plane, I silently wished that I had taken off and landed Iceman clean, just to prove to Greg that I could.

I suppose that's the fascination/addiction of flying, though. Just because you kiss the runway today, doesn't mean you'll grease it tomorrow. It's an ever-changing set of variables, fueling a never-ending desire to get back up in the air and try and do it all better the next time.