Flight training in FATP

Flew around in the Mooney. Radio work, stalls, emergency landings, precautionary landings, incipient spin.

There are many parachuters on the field, both recreational and military. Here are some parachuters entering a DC-3 at FATP:

Arrived in FATP (Bloemfontein, South Africa)

Flew from FAGM (Rand Airport, Johannesburg) to FATP (New Tempe Airport, Bloemfontein) with my instructor, Stefan Veldman from EagleWhizz in a Mooney M20 with manual gear retraction, constant speed unit, and hydraulic flaps. Interesting machine, flies nicely.

Another Baytour

In a Cessna 172, you can fly from Palo Alto (KPAO) over San Francisco International, downtown, Golden Gate bridge, and back over Stanford in about one hour. Nice.

Stanford and "the dish", from about 1500 ft AGL.


The oval and Hoover tower.

KPAO-(KSBA)/L52: My first emergency landing

So, on 8 April 2006 I flew with a friend (pilot, too) in a brand new (2005) Cessna 172 SP (180 hp) with Garmin G1000 glass cockpit from Palo Alto, California (KPAO) to Santa Barbara (KSBA), about 210 NM south. At that time I had some 110 hours. Weather in Palo Alto was, as usual, wonderful; Santa Barbara had - as often - some clouds, but they're usually just along the hills, not over the sea. The forecast was "sky clear", compare these METARs:

KPAO 082347Z 32007KT 30SM SCT055 BKN180 18/05 A3010
KPRB 082353Z AUTO 21007KT 10SM CLR 18/06 A3006
KSBA 082353Z 26010KT 10SM OVC034 17/09 A3008 RMK AO2 SLP185 T01670089 10167 20139 56016
KSBA 090053Z 28008KT 10SM CLR 16/08 A3007 RMK AO2 SLP181 T01610078

(That is: Palo Alto at 23:47 Zulu (UTC) on 8 April: Wind 7 Knots from 320 degrees, Visibility 30 statute miles, scattered clouds at 5500 feet, broken clouds at 18000, temperature 18 degrees Celsius, dew point 5 degrees Celsius, altimeter (QNH) 30.10 inch mercury.)

Here's a map. Oceano (L52) in the centre (untowered, purple, close to the sea), San Luis Obispo (KSBP) a bit north, Paso Robles (KPRB) the class D airport on the northern edge. Santa Barbara (with its class C airspace SFC-40 hundred feet) ist just visible on the southern edge.

So, there we were, having flown south for some 2 hours at 9500 feet. We had passed Paso Robles (KPRB), and were approaching San Luis Obispo. My copilot suggested to do a few touch-and-goes there, but I was somewhat concerned as it was about to get dark, and we had another 60 NM (half an hour) to go - and I am not particularly fond of night landings in Santa Barbara: One one side you have the mountains (well, hills - a chain along the coast up to about 3500 feet - definitely higher than traffic pattern altitude...), on the other side you have the dark sea. Tower will normally give 15R to single engine planes, which doesn't have any visual approach aid (VASI or PAPI) and is pointing south towards the sea - so, first you fly downwind towards the hills (feels good), then on the baseleg parallel to them, then turn right towards the sea for your final - and if you go around (because you're too high, say), you fly over the dark sea without any visual reference for your turn to crosswind...

We did agree then to have a few touch-and-go landings in Oceano (L52), an uncontrolled field close to the beach that I had always wanted to go to. We were, by now, only a few miles away, and I initiated a somewhat steep descent - foolishly with nearly completely retracted throttle (danger of shock cooling). We were under VFR flight following/radar service, and told ATC about our intentions to land at Oceano. Radar service was terminated, and we were advised to check in again when we were ready to continue to Santa Barbara. I switched over to the Oceano CTAF (Common Traffic Advisory Frequency). The field has nearly zero elevation, TPA (traffic pattern altitude) about 1000 feet, no traffic, and no UNICOM either with field advisories on the frequency. To get a picture about wind, active runway etc., I planned to overfly the field at about 2000 feet, so I slowed down the descent at 2200 feet. As the speed decreases, I slowly open throttle - alas, to no effect whatsoever, except some rough engine noises at constantly low RPM.

This was a rather memorable feeling, I must say (as so many firsts). I gave full throttle and announce "engine failure!". My copilot thinks I'm suggesting an exercise, and (somewhat bored) starts giving the engine failure checklist. I initiate the ABC (air speed, best field, cockpit checks), bring the machine to 68 knots, and manage (being more emphatic) to convince my copilot that I am serious. He starts looking for the field, and fortunately soon has Oceano in sight. In the mean time, I have completed the cockpit checks: fuel selector - both, fuel shutoff valve - full in, throttle - full in, mixture - full rich (it was still fairly lean from the high altitude flying - good to keep the engine hot, and at first I am relieved and push it in, full rich - but the engine doesn't rev up), fuel pump - on, magnetos - check left/right.

The engine's still gargling at under 1000 RPM, and I concentrate on the approach. Field is in sight, and by now we're (fortunately) a bit high on a straight-in approach. Full Flaps. Wind seems quiet. I ask my copilot to make radio calls - he transmits our intentions and mayday call on the CTAF. We hadn't heard any other traffic on the frequency, and didn't know the wind direction (only the one in nearby San Luis Obispo, whose ATIS (Automatic Terminal Information Service) we had listened to). We're quite fast and high by now, with full flaps, and I put the nose down to get the speed just at the top of the white bar and fly some coordinated S-curves to bleed off speed (slipping isn't recommended with the Cessna 172 with full flaps, as it can lead to elevator oscillations). I consider shutting down the engine (not that it contributed much anyway), fuel flow and electrical systems, as suggested for forced landings, to mitigate the dangers of a crash landing. However, we're on a fairly good and controlled approach now, and I don't really know the characteristics of a windmilling or standing propeller, and I would rather keep the control of flaps, so I let the systems run.

Soon we fly over the numbers, just a tad fast, spot on center, and thanks to full flaps bleed off speed quickly and touch down in a nice and controlled manner in the first third of the runway (which has some 2500 feet), and exit it (without being too hard on the brakes) even before the last taxiway.

Having arrived on the apron we experimented a bit with throttle, magnetos, and other controls, but never got RPM above 1000. We shut everything down, and called ATC to report our safe landing and cancel the emergency call. Then we called our flight school to arrange repair of the aircraft. As it turned out later, the fuel transducer was transmitting wrong measurements, and the fuel mixture was far too rich. In fact, just possibly having reduced the mixture might have fixed the problem - but it wasn't part of the checklist, and in the situation didn't occur to us.

The very friendly guy living next to the airport got us some pizza, and called us a cab to the next hotel. Was a good night's sleep.

MNMG-MNLL-MNMG: General aviation flying (or drug trafficking?) in Managua, Nicaragua

So, there I was, on holiday in Nicaragua, held by two police men interrogating me about the contents of my pockets.

I was on holiday in Nicaragua, and actually found a pilot on the web: NicaNix, aka Steve. Steve's working here, and one of three guys that got their private pilot's license in Nicaragua in 2002 - the first PPLs issued in Nicaragua since the Sandinistas. His instructor was a Cap. José Antonio Bonilla, who is running the Falcon Escuela de Aviación. So, I mailed Steve and asked whether he'd like to go for a ride and show me the local flying, and lo and behold, a few days later we do indeed meet at the airport of Managua.

The machine was a Cessna 150. It has 400 lb useful load with full fuel, and Steve's, well, just over half that, and me too (at that time, I had been living in the US with all the concomitants), even without back pack. So, to save weight, I left the back pack in the "Oficina de Notificaciónes Aeronauticas" where we had previously submitted the flight plan. Then, because I hadn't got the pilot's license card yet (just passed my check ride a month ago), and left the temporary paper one at home, I had to go through the passenger terminal, not through the hangar - this is the international airport of the capital of the largest country in Central America, and security is strict.

Steve went over to the hangar - he had to walk a mile, because his motorbike had just broken down - and preflighted, and drained some 5 gallons fuel (to compensate for our combined weight), and taxied the machine back to the passenger terminal, where I had gone through security and waited for him. The Cessna 150 has 100hp, one com radio, one nav radio, VOR, ADF, the usual six pack (turn co-ordinator was broken, though), carburator - though carb heat was rarely necessary: it was really hot.

Steve communicated with ground ("Managua superficie, Yankee November - Charlie Golf Echo"), and we were good to taxi. Had to hold short ("Mantenga corto"), as there was traffic on approach. We squawked 1477.

And then, off we went - short field take off. The runway is really long, but it was hot, and we were at max weight. So, 10 degrees flaps, rotation at 50, and airborne! We climbed at 70 knots, with some 200 ft/min.

We flew south-east, to Grenada - beautiful. Mountains, volcanos, lakes (with fresh water sharks, apparently), islands, dense forest. Beautiful, but not so many options ("best field"?) for emergencies, so we turned back to Grenada, and then Steve let me fly: we did some maneuvering in the vicinity of the airport - steep turns, dutch rolls, etc. - I wanted to get a feeling for turn co-ordination on the 150. Rudders are sensitive on that machine.

Then, we flew to one of his practice areas - Steve did some pattern work at Managua International in the course of his training, but obviously ATC doesn't like it very much, so most of it was done in a few airports in the vicinity. We headed to one of them, Las Lajenas. An asphalted strip, lots of gravel on the side of the runway and on one end. Flew over the numbers at 2000 ft, descended to pattern altitude while turning, flew over the departure end and joined right downwind for the active. A guy was walking on the runway. Pre-landing checklist, turn to base, turn to final, runway clear (finally), and I landed.

Steve taxied back and did the take-off - it's tricky, can be very gusty. We first tried a no-flap takeoff, because of the cross wind, but the machine didn't climb at 60+ knots, with the nose fairly high, so Steve aborted the take-off. Taxied back, and took advantage of a lull in the wind to do a fully fledged short-field take off again: 10 degrees flaps, on the brakes, full throttle, roll. This time it worked beautifully.

Back to Managua. Joined left downwind, and saw a jet and a regional carrier taxiing for take off. So, we talked to ATC and volunteered to extend downwind to let these guys go first - doesn't hurt to keep good will with ATC. So, we flew on and on downwind westward - along the shore of the lake, from the airport towards the city center. Finally clear to turn base - exactly over the old cathedral (one of Managua's major sights) and the presidential office! Great views, all along, but that was spectacular. Just a few days before, I was a sightseeing pedestrian down there.

My landing on the big runway (about 8000 x 150 ft) was not quite as smooth as on the small strip (whose size was closer to Palo Alto KPAO that I am used to), we bounced a bit, but came to a smooth halt eventually.

Anyway, so now we taxi back, and Steve drops me at the passenger terminal again and taxis to the hangar, and I just walk up to the terminal and wonder how to get through to the exit - we're supposed to meet on the road halfway between terminal and hangar. Well, turns out that the security guy there is not quite used to general aviation flights, and single passengers just dropping in coming from the runway. He asks my name, identification, what I am doing there, where I've been, and so forth.

So, I tell him the truth: I am German, born in Argentina, doing my PhD in applied math in California, and have just been flying around with Steve, an American missionary friend in Nicaragua (who I have met three days ago on the internet) since I'm pilot too (but have forgotten my license at home, because I just got it in January, and haven't received the card yet), just for fun, and that I have no luggage since it is in the hotel, except for my backpack, which I am carrying because I've just returned from Little Corn Island this morning where I have taken diving classes, but the backpack is in the flight planning office, since we are too heavy for the plane, and my passport is there, too, and I only have my credit card and my German driver's license on me, and we have flown to Grenada, but not landed, but then landed somewhere else nearby with a guy on the runway, but I don't remember the name of that airport.

All the while I am sitting there, big sunburn, bad haircut, unkempt (see the picture), T-shirt. PhD student and hobby pilot. At this point it occurs to me that I have read in the travel guide that Little Corn Island is well known for cocaine trafficking - sometimes when the police chases boats, the gangs would just dump the cocaine, and occasionally it just shows up on the beach there. Anyway.

Meanwhile, for some reason, I am talking to two police men. They are very interested in my travels, whereabouts, drug habits, the contents of my pockets, enquired what the "Abundant Air Frequent Flyer card" is about (buy 10 chicken sandwiches, get one free at the airport cafe in Palo Alto) and why I have rolled up the 100 Cordoba note I am carrying. It rolled up itself, because it was in my jeans pocket all day on a humid island and several hours of boat and plane rides, I say, truthfully. And what have I been doing then with the rolled up bank note, they ask.

At that point, I was getting a tad concerned here.

Fortunately, I decided to call Steve on his mobile - I figure he must be done with taxiing, parking, shutdown, etc. He talks to the police man for a while, and after some back and forth their attitude changes, they give me back my wallet, cell phone, 100 cordoba note, 10-sandwiches-and-one-for-free-card, take me outside, pat me on the back, and say, "ah, si, bueno, Cap. José Antonio Bonilla, el es muy buen amigo mío". I offer to bring over my passport from the other office for them to check, but they say, no, no, all ok, Cap. José Antonio Bonilla, no problem.

So there. 1.5 hours total flight duration, and landings in MNLL and MNMG! Thanks Steve, that was an awesome flight!

And, well, I had my hair cut that very same day....

Land of Big Sheep

In Mandarin Chinese, America is called "美国", land of beauty, while Germany is "德国", land of virtue. Now, these names are flattering at first; but then, "美“, beauty, is pronounced měi as in America, and "德" is dé as in Deutschland. The suspicion that these names are phonetic rather than meaningful is driven home by the fact that the translation of "France" is "法国", land of law/order (Fǎguó), and of "England" "英国", land of heros (Yīngguó).

Other nice phonetic names are "意大利" (Yīdàlì) for Italy and "加拿大" (Jiānádà) for Canada.

Intriguingly, the character for beauty, "美", is composed of "羊", meaning sheep, and "大", big, so (at least at some point in Chinese History), big + sheep = beautiful.

Hence one could argue that in Chinese, America is the land of big sheep.

First Solo

Today I flew solo for the first time. Fun fun! It was in N595SP (a Cessna 172 SP with 180hp) around the pattern at KPAO (Palo Alto, CA). Here my first ever solo landing:

Tobias is here

Tobias is visiting.

SGSA Oktoberfest 2002

Gary from the Stanford German Student Association board.

Arrived in Stanford, Land of the Free

Ok, finally starting my PhD in Scientific Computing and Computational Mathematics. Below Constantin and me at some random event with free food and some soft drink (alcohol being very problematic, you see.)