Archive for the ‘Jean Moule’ Category

CFI: Curious Flying Individual, Crazy Flying w/Idiots, Can’t Fly Inough

Tuesday, April 29th, 2014

Jean Moule last wrote for the Flight Training blog about a flight lesson in a Grumman Tiger. She is an emerita faculty member of Oregon State University, and a published writer and artist. Visit her website.—Ed.

Who knew that a closed flight school would open the door (you get in, open it, and he gets in) to so many styles and manners of certificated flight instructors? Really, I am not checking them out for my next CFI. I am simply learning from them. In January, with 15 hours under my left seat and a long way from solo in 2015, I decided to see how many CFIs I could fly with in 2014.

Jean's logbook, with endorsements from some of her many CFIs

Jean’s logbook, with entries from some of her many CFIs.

I get itchy to go up only once a month, so I am not expecting much progress until I settle down with a field, an airplane, and an instructor.

While I have the time and money to progress as fast as I want in learning to fly, I am in no rush. I plan to take three years to solo. This puts me into a unique category. I would like to become competent flying an airplane, yet I am not interested in continuing on to my pilot certificate (or so I say now).

In one blog I read, “Twenty hours to solo at age 21, and one hour for each year of age after that.” While my hours are slowly creeping up with much review and some new material, at age 68, I will not panic until my presolo hours hit 50.

I am delighting in each review flight I take with different instructors in different airplanes at different airports. I am surprised how each CFI adds to my learning and understanding. Each instructor seems to emphasize different aspects or teach/reteach the basics in a different manner. While each skill I use in the air is not a totally new one for me, I learn more each flight. I love the way my prior understandings and my new ones come together to slowly increase my comfort and my skills.

In some ways, checking out new instructors is almost as much fun as flying.

I have had nine different CFIs in 20 hours of instruction. I’ve flown three different types of airplanes; most were Cessna 172s.

The CFI entries in my logbook tell you a lot about their levels of expertise and what I learned or reviewed. “Discovery flight,” says one. “Climbs, descents, constant rate and speed, medium turns, trim, taxi, airport and airplane protocol,” says another. And these two CFIs took me up in the same airplane at the same airport, albeit a short 0.3 flight versus a 0.9 flight. One was just starting his time in this role. The other had taught many.

EPSON MFP imageI was quite impressed by the handouts the more experienced instructor gave me before we headed to the airplane. While three of the flight instructors I have flown with handed me a list for radio calls, and the one who took me through my first 14 hours drew many diagrams before our flights, I especially appreciated one handout from this instructor.

The illustrated runway layout included instructions for radio calls and what to do with the instruments at each point on the way to land this particular airplane. I have had less than two hours at airports without towers, so radio calls are a bit different. Abeam the number on the runway on downwind, “Carb heat, cut power, 1st notch flaps, trim to 90 mph.” At 45 degrees and turn to base, “Call base and 2nd notch flaps.” Yes, these become second nature to pilots. Not yet for me. The diagram and the notes are particularly nice to study for this particular airplane and airport.

Another CFI, on a similar airport diagram, included altitude. So many details for landing in the pattern. Complicated considering the ease of takeoff. Once on the runway you just stay straight, throttle on, and lift that nose at speed.

Even the first time up in the air with me, the more experienced flight instructors seem a little bit more confident in talking me into a move rather than taking over the controls. I did understand one grabbing the controls to quickly taxi our small 172 off the runway for a large commercial flight coming in behind us.

Some flight instructors are a master at my comfort level, the absolutely most important factor for me. If I am feeling comfortable in the airplane with the instructor, I remember more and I learn more during the lesson. And that CFI can ask and receive much from me. Steep turns, sure. Stalls, bring them on. No help on the landing. Well…

Instructors vary on how much they talk or tell you what to do, or ask if you feel confident and want to do a maneuver (takeoff for me, fine, landing, talk me down please in the crosswind). Some just confidently expect you to do what they suggest. “Play with it,” one says. And I do. And after he evaluates my skill we play with it even more. Steeper, faster, funner.

Learning something each time. Getting different teaching styles and experiences. One thing though—most have told me that I taxi a little too fast. I think it is because it took me so long to learn it. I promise to get that right next time. Fast taxiing will slow down to match my slow solo progress.

While I have several airports and dozens of flight instructors within an hour of my home, right now I am leaning toward LebanAir Aviation at Lebanon State Airport (S30). The friendliest (and probably cheapest) little airport in Oregon: $80 airplane, $40 instructors.

This might be the one. I have eight more months to check out CFIs. At LebanAir alone, two instructors down (I mean up) and six to go at that small airport.

Six years ago I climbed Mount Kilimanjaro in Africa. My guide got ill, and I finished that trek on my own. Polé, polé, slow and steady, was the mantra. Both with and without my guide it worked. Guess I am doing that in learning to fly. I’ll get there slowly. And some CFI and I will land, he or she will get out. This CFI will leave, not because of illness, but because I am ready. The CFI will send me up into those heights. Alone.—Jean Moule

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The old guy on a windy day

Monday, March 24th, 2014

Jean Moule last wrote for the Flight Training blog about a flight lesson in which she invited along her college professor. She is an emerita faculty member of Oregon State University, and a published
writer and artist. Visit her website.—Ed.

When and where will I fly? What kind of airplane and with whom? I have not found a regular airplane, CFI, flight school, or field since my one-year favorite shop closed. But it is March, and I am determined to fly at least once a month. I schedule with Lee in Independence. Great instructor and cool airplane.

In the cold wind coming cross-wise onto the airfield, we sit in the cockpit

flight training blog grumman

The Grumman

going over the instrument panel of a Grumman Tiger AA5B owned by Jeanne’s Flight School. We look at the checklist and Lee answers questions, even before we go into the building to grab headsets and begin to check the checklist. Ah, I see. One removes one’s hearing aids before putting on the headsets. Got it.

Except for a glider, this is my first time in a low-wing airplane with a sliding canopy.  Feels sort of like a luxury convertible car, tufted fabric seats and all. I told my CFI—my OLD CFI, ’cause that is what his car license plate says—that it reminded me of the time I drove my father’s Maserati. Fits and feels a bit like a glove.

After I made my first radio call at a field without a tower, we were soon

flight training blog jean moule

Jean and Lee

airborne. I enjoyed the handling of the Grumman very much. I hadn’t done any maneuvers in the air in a while. Mostly I just wanted to fly at the controls over the landscape. Lee encouraged me. Play with it, he said. I did a few steep turns and practiced power-off and power-on stalls. A nice review of some basics and I learned much because the airplane was new to me. Just a smooth little airplane with a great view.

We tootled over the Willamette River between Amity to the north and Camp Adair to the south. We stayed between the West Salem hills and the beginnings of the coast range. The cumulus clouds at about 5,000 feet and the late afternoon light toward 5 p.m. gave wonderful definition to the sky and the patterned fields, trees, and standing water. OK, got that needed dose of airtime.

It was a high-wind day, so I turned the ailerons into the wind for taxiing and did a crab on final before landing sideslip to align to the runway.

I smiled as Lee backed the airplane into the hangar of a house on the large Grumman at duskairpark residential grid of runways and roads. I remember laughing the first time I saw homes with hangars. Here there are 200. What a community.

My only frown for the day was noting that Lee, like some, charged for ground school, while many instructors base their fee on the Hobbs time on the airplane. My lesson here: It is good to ask before you begin. Then the ending conversation is serious fun too.

I happily headed home, an hour drive away. I had just finished one story on CD and popped a new one into the player. The story opens with a man preflighting a Cessna. Cool, I think. I just flew and now I get a story about flying! Only, in the story, the airplane crashes. It is more ironic than a downer for me. I know it is a story, and I also remember the wise advice of my first flight instructor: Rather than get rattled by news of any crash or airplane incident, try to dig and find out what happened. This has led me to understand that most accidents in small airplanes are caused by pilot error. And two of them are at the top of my list to simply avoid.

First check, and if necessary, double-check that fuel. I remember checking the fuel with a CFI in California. There was plenty for the flight, however the company wanted the airplane full and sent the truck over to fill it. After the top-off, at the CFI’s instruction, we checked the fuel again for water and actual amount. I appreciated the reminder that the pilot in command is ultimately responsible. I will also remember to check that fuel cap and think carefully about the distance and wind direction I plan to fly.

The other caution I have firmly in my mind is to stay away from sketchy weather—which is what did in the pilot in the story I listened to. He was in just too much of a hurry and flew into weather, instrument rating aside, that his airplane could not handle.

While I have much to learn, that advice to check out incident details keeps me ready to take to the air, air sorrows for others in story or for real, not keeping me away.

And of course, having really old CFIs who are solid pilots still in one piece, helps.—Jean Moule

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Images in the air

Monday, February 24th, 2014

Jean Moule last wrote for the Flight Training blog about making the best of a change in her flight training plans. She is an emerita faculty member of Oregon State University, and a published writer and artist. Visit her website.—Ed.

Piper Clipper

Bob Hartmann flying his Piper PA-16 Clipper.

In 1970 my art instructor bought a Piper PA-16 Clipper. His art changed from many other media to photographs taken from the airplane. To get a clear view of the ground directly under the airplane, as he wished, he had to turn it pretty much on its side (someone more knowledgeable feel free to tell me a better name for that maneuver and tell us more about that airplane). Earlier, when I had Robert Hartmann as a professor at Berkeley in the mid 1960s, his work was mostly two-dimensional images of airplanes in or under clouds.

In the last year, as you may know from my earlier blogs, I have been taking flying lessons. My flight school closed and my quest for a solo has been on hold. I have not shared here that in the last three years I have reentered a world of art—mostly watercolors, mostly clouds. It was Bob Hartmann who inspired me to change my undergraduate major at Berkeley to art.

One of Bob Hartmann's aerial images.

One of Bob Hartmann’s aerial images.

Last year I wondered if Bob was still alive and where he was located. A bit of searching, as he does not own a computer, turned up a number. With hesitation I called him. We exchanged a few letters, and this week I was honored and touched to meet with him in his home of 50 years in the Oakland, Calif., hills. It was there that I learned of his flying history and spent  time looking at his incredible earthscapes taken from his airplane.

Two days later, I had an extra day in the Bay Area. None of my other connections worked out, no phone messages returned, no beckoning activities. But, wait. There must be a flight school near here. With my recent decision to get up in the air in as many places with as many CFIs as possible before settling down and training for that solo, I decided to fly. I begged my way into a flight lesson for the afternoon. Giddy, I think of the joy of flying over my old campus, seeing the bell tower from the air, and circling Mount Diablo.

 An hour before my flight I think. Would Bob, now 87, be available to go up? As we all know you can put another person in that airplane when you take a lesson. [So long as weight and balance work.---Ed.]

 I call. He comes. A circle is complete.

Jean and BobIt was a pleasure to preflight and go up in a Cessna 172 so similar to the one I flew for a year. Details escaped me and I left the radio work to Joe, the flight instructor. Often I asked him to take the yoke so I could take the photos. I timed our one-hour flight perfectly and learned a few new pieces of information to connect to my knowledge base. Beautiful blue sky, San Francisco in the distance, and Mount Diablo up close. Best of all, we flew over the land that Bob had photographed as art over the years.

 As I pay and get a log of the flight, Bob talks with Joe about his years of flying from Buchanan Field in Concord in his Piper Clipper.

aviation art, aviation photographyAfter our flight we go to lunch and, at his home, I marvel at more of his images. I spend too much time and miss my commercial flight home, but I don’t care. I will treasure his gallery book that he signs and gives me. It is called Solo Flights.—Jean Moule

Are you interested in learning to fly? Sign up for a free student trial membership in the Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association and receive six issues of Flight Training magazine plus lots of training tools and resouces for student pilots. Click here for more information.

Sad to glad

Monday, February 10th, 2014

Jean Moule last wrote about flying in the Caymans for the Flight Training blog. She is an emerita faculty member of Oregon State University, and a published writer and artist. Visit her website.—Ed.

Fog Clearing at Home“Jean, we sure have had fog this year. Forecast today is fog all day. In two months we have flown 765 no more than two hours. Not good for the airplane to sit. If the forecast is wrong I am available to fly.“

 While the fog makes for good photos and painting, my flying needs were not being met. Occasionally we even had sun at our house at 800 feet and could see the fog bank below us, and I enjoyed it. A friend asked, “Can’t you just fly through the fog and above it?” “Yes,” I replied, “but one must be able to see the ground to get back down on a visual flight!” And the fog can close in very quickly.

While I had had eight recent commercial flights, it had been six weeks since I had flown an airplane myself. This is the longest break since I began lessons a year ago. Fog I could deal with, as I could look forward to sunnier days to come…after all, this is Oregon. What I could not deal with was the next email from my instructor.

 “Jean, I hate to be the bearer of bad news but the 172 is being sold and we are closing the office…In aviation there will always be changes and change is good, even though sometimes it doesn’t feel like it.”

 My afternoon flight now canceled, I struggled to get some balance, beginning to realize how much flying had become part of my life, even if it takes me my projected 57 hours to solo! The fog settling in my brain from no flying was worse than the real fog we had been living with for weeks. While my instructor had suggested future lesson options at other airports, I wanted to fly now. I went so far as to ask a flying neighbor if he was going up that day (he was not), as I know sunny Oregon days are limited in the winter. I felt so sad. What to do? I finished my preparations for a conference at OSU in Corvallis the next day that included a chart that illustrated my changing use of time. I had added flying for 2013 and had it projected for 2014. Would it happen?

 The day after my yearlong instructor and airplane vanished from my future, I wrote this to my former instructor.

 “Hi Steve, After looking into the bright blue skies for a day and wanting to be in it, and after a conference in Corvallis I stopped by the airport in Lebanon on my way home. Whew, what a scene!…I flew (in a really, really old 172). In my conference-going clothes. Had my logbook with me only because it was an artifact in my presentation at the conference. Sold some copies of my book to other pilots/student pilots/Lebanair Aviation owner. Change can be interesting… Jean”

New friends JeanPaul (left) and John at Lebanon State Airport.

New friends JeanPaul (left) and John at Lebanon State Airport.

Wow, I felt like I had stepped into some kind of movie set at Lebanon State Airport that certainly lived up to its motto, “The friendliest little Airport in Oregon.” Because of the sunny day, small airplanes were in and out, and I met many people. I visited, stayed, and eventually took a short flight. The flight was paid for by the sales of my book, Ask Nana Jean, because the owner of LebanAir kept asking anyone who came in if they had $10! One went to a fellow who had happened to read my Flight Training blogs! Small world—or maybe not in general aviation.

 What an unexpected find. What unexpected support and new acquaintances. And I got to fly as the sun was setting on a clear sky day!—Jean Moule

Are you interested in learning to fly? Sign up for a free student trial membership in the Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association and receive six issues of Flight Training magazine plus lots of training tools and resouces for student pilots. Click here for more information.

How many different airplanes have you flown?

Wednesday, January 29th, 2014

Jean Moule last wrote about flying in the Cascades for the Flight Training blog. She is an emerita faculty member of Oregon State University, and a published writer and artist. Visit her website.—Ed.

CA Into cockpitAs we walked down the aisle to our seats on our last of eight commercial flights in three weeks, I did a little gig when I saw our exit door seat row with four feet of space for a 3,000-mile trip. These weeks in New York City, Massachusetts, and the Cayman Islands had given me time with family, ski patrollers, professional connections, and lots of gawking in NYC. And on flights, I kept my eyes open for flight attendants or pilots who could continue to open my eyes and mind to the behind-the-scenes culture of flying that I have entered in the last year.

While I have not kept track, I know I have flown, as a passenger, in most types of large jets during my hundreds of commercial flights over the years. But I know a new small airplane when I meet it. And a deHavilland Twin Otter flight from Cayman Brac to Grand Cayman gave me another small aircraft experience. The most incredible part of that flight for me was the open cockpit door that allowed me to watch the instruments from my seat in the third row. Instruments also watched by a male pilot of African descent and a female co-pilot. During our 40-minute island hop I was entranced and delighted to know I knew something about some of those gauges!

 CaymanEven before that long flight with the excellent legroom from NYC to Portland took off, I was just plain bored. Too tired to work or write, nothing good to read. No movies I wanted to watch. I noticed a pilot in transit heading to the restroom. He graciously answered a question, and I soon was delighted to know that we knew some of the same people and he lives a mere 20 air miles from me. Very quickly, he and his iPad were sitting next to me, and he opened a world I did not know existed.

He began to fly as a 3-year-old on his mother’s lap, as his mother ran a flight school with 40 airplanes. My head became full of stories of his flying and images of the airplanes he flew from the gallery on his iPad. While a commercial pilot, he also test flies everything from new designs to ancient planes a museum or collector wants to check out for its ability to take to the air. He seems to have a connection to each.

“How many types of planes have you flown?”

“Over 300,” he says.

“And which is your favorite?” I ask.

“Whichever one I am in.”—Jean Moule

 Are you interested in learning to fly? Sign up for a free student trial membership in the Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association and receive six issues of Flight Training magazine plus lots of training tools and resouces for student pilots. Click here for more information.

 

 

Cascade mountain high

Wednesday, December 11th, 2013

Jean Moule last wrote about flying in Hawaii for the Flight Training blog. She is an emerita faculty member of Oregon State University, and a published writer and artist. Visit her website.—Ed.

Flying over the Hoodoo Moutain Resort, Oregon

From left to right: Hoodoo ski area, Big Lake, Mount Washington

During my years of ski instructing and ski patrolling I have “gone over the pass” many, many times. And I have spent hours on patrol handling dispatch at the top of Hoodoo Mountain Resort. From there you can see what we call Sand Mountains, and the multiple snowmobile tracks that climb up their smooth, snow-covered banks as high as possible.

 Weather in Oregon can be overcast and cloudy most of the fall and winter. I have a shirt that says, “Oregon State Rain Festival: January 1 to December 31.” Rain and overcast had set in, yet there was a week of clear, sunny weather, and my hopes of flying over the Cascades to the Sisters airport and back reawakened.

Flying over the Three Sisters and Sand Mountains, Oregon

Three Sisters top middle; Sand Mountains, bottom left

I had not flown above 5,000 feet yet. With the pass at 4,800, the surrounding peaks at 10, 000, we would go first to 5,500, then 7,500, and then 9,500 as needed to help ensure distance from other airplanes. I was excited. Sounded like more fun than practicing stalls. My CFI was willing. My husband-photographer would go along.

 Ground school before the flight had Steve explaining the angle needed as we came up on the elevation of the ridge as the high and low pressure might make the turbulence more than we (I) could handle. As we took off and headed east, first over our four acres and then over the towns in Santiam Canyon that I knew so well, we noted the smoke from home chimneys rising straight up in the cloudless calm skies.

 As we climbed higher and talked about potential landing spots in the seemingly endless forests in these mountains, the tops of the Three Sisters came into view. We noticed the snow on the top of North Sister being blown strongly south and west by the winds coming up from Eastern Oregon.

Flying over the Sand Mountains, Sisters, Oregon

“Sand Mountains” are really part of a string of craters.

Sure enough, as we came to the summit of Santiam Pass, seeing the road under us winding its way over, the winds began to shake us up quite a bit. “I don’t like this!” I said. And, angled as we should be, I slowly turned us away and back into smoother air. But not before Rob took a photo of the ski area we have enjoyed for years. We saw the backside of Hoodoo Butte and the runs coming down in parallel rows. And, to our amazement, we discovered that the Sand Mountains were actually part of a row of small craters. The view from the air opened our minds to this incredible new understanding of the earth terrain we had travelled and viewed for years.

 And I had a new respect and understanding of winds.—Jean Moule

Are you interested in learning to fly? Sign up for a free student trial membership in the Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association and receive six issues of Flight Training magazine plus lots of training tools and resouces for student pilots. Click here for more information.

 

Somewhere, over the rainbow, way up high…

Wednesday, November 20th, 2013

Jean Moule last wrote about flying with a different instructor for the Flight Training blog. She is an emerita faculty member of Oregon State University, and a published writer and artist. Visit her website.—Ed.

learn to fly, student pilot, flying in Hawaii

Rather than go snorkeling, student pilot Jean Moule (right) arranged a flight lesson during her visit to the islands.

Spiraling up on thermals in a glider, circling Kauai dodging clouds: what a way to spend time and funds for vacation fun.

I expected to take to the air between islands and headed home. Yet…something called…

Normally time in the tropics leads to sunset and/or snorkeling cruises. Fancy meals overlooking the beach. And, for more active adventure: zip lines, parasailing, scuba diving, SUP (stand up paddling), horseback riding. There are hikes and special coves for swimming. So, what did I unexpectedly do?

Oahu

This time…it was different. Even as we landed from the mainland onto Oahu, I knew I wanted to see more from the air. On some of the islands 80 percent of the scenery is only visible from a boat or from the sky. A bit of research and a few calls and I was scheduled to take a mini-glider lesson.

What was it like without an engine? Everything seemed different. Until Yuki had us up in the air after our release from our tow plane and we turned slowly upward and she let go of the controls. Somehow it began to feel familiar. She had told me earlier, “A student pilot learns a lot about flying from the engineless experience.” Now, if only I could take my eyes off the scenery long enough to solidify my growing skills.

She let me take the glider wherever I wished, while maintaining her watch on the altitude, the other gliders, and parachuters in the air not far from us. I FLEW. As we got ready to return to the airport she took over the controls and did a few steep g-force turns that had me laughing and joyful. Then she landed. My mini lesson helped me understand the power of rising air and the feel of an airplane, as all of them are, designed to fly on its own.

Kauai

Quite a day. This is an adaptation of what I wrote to my Salem, Oregon, flight instructor:

Remember the time you took over the controls after we were landing to quickly clear the runway for a corporate jet flight coming in? As we landed in Lihue, Kauai, Hawaii, my flight instructor took over the controls to get out of the way of an American Airlines flight about to take off. Oh my…amazing to be intertwined with the big guys. And, like, holding them up!? We also had to wait in line for the takeoff earlier. Almost cartoonish: Big planes and little us. A first for me.

As I took off Bruce said, “You’ve done this before.” He also appreciated that I was gentle on the controls. Certainly learned a bit about flying in the mountains, near the rainy clouds and in some turbulence. Now I know to say 492 Echo Romeo unfailingly (OK, confession: Since my regular N number is 75765, I had never asked for a briefing with a tail number with letters. The briefer let me know my error when I said E R, even added “November” for the N part of the number! I have studied, my husband has tested me: At this point I think you can wake me up in the middle of the night, give me a letter of the alphabet, and I can tell you the standard word…I am even dreaming of them).

As a CFI, Bruce, a former college prof, freely shared that he could not get a student to pilot certificate level as I believe the island situation has limitations. He certainly knew his island. I was surprised that we carefully avoided flying over populated areas to reduce the noise to those communities. And I learned to skirt clouds. Raindrops on the window did not freak me out this time either.

The scenery was awesome and the cost—that had both Robbie and me up in the air—was all of $2 more than if we had both taken the regular scenic flight with the same time and route!

Worked for me. And Robbie took 100 photos.

I think I enjoyed it most when Bruce and Robbie were talking and I just flew over the coastline with some turns and altitude adjustments as I felt like it. 1.1 Hobbs and I have an entry to paste into my logbook.

Thought you might like to know…

And, one last surprise: having now flown a different Cessna 172, my heart races every time I see one…and I want to fly it.—Jean Moule

Are you interested in learning to fly? Sign up for a free student trial membership in the Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association and receive six issues of Flight Training magazine plus lots of training tools and resouces for student pilots. Click here for more information.

 

 

 

You don’t always get what you want…but sometimes…you get what you need

Monday, October 7th, 2013

Jean Moule last wrote about African-American pilot Bessie Coleman for the Flight Training blog. She is an emerita faculty member of Oregon State University, and a published writer and artist. Visit her website.—Ed.

Jean Moule smiles during a flight lesson.

Jean Moule smiles during a flight lesson.

I walked into the Salem Flight Training office to begin my 10 to 12 flight lesson. I was surprised to see Mark instead of Steve. “Steve had some work for the state,” Mark said when he saw my expression.

A bit surprised because I had let Steve know that, as my first instructor, I preferred him and he had simply cancelled or changed a flight before if he was not available.

Yet…my now flying addiction caused me to take a deep breath and go for it.

Since I have had two substitutes, at first I did not connect that, Ah ha…this is the guy that I almost flew with in February…when we did not even get off the ground…because of my poor taxiing…or  so I thought!

We talk about our plan for this time. Mark suggests that I fly to the Corvallis Airport because he knows I have not landed elsewhere. “I am not ready for that,” I say. It is empowering, in a way, to speak to someone who has not flown hours with me and needs my input to know my perceived skills.

Mark sends me to preflight the airplane and we begin the routine…the one that usually has me work myself into a snag at something I know fairly well.

I manage to misplace my radio call cheat sheet. I decide to take the high road, “Guess I will have to get this out of my head this time,” I say. And then, at least twice, instructor points to the N-number right before me above the instruments. That is one piece of information I do not need to have in my brain…of course I should know it after 12 hours in this airplane. Brain freeze and a live radio connection is an incredible eraser.

Preliminaries done, we taxi. I am getting better at taxiing because now I connect that a slight brake allows the wheels to rotate in the direction you want to go. “Like a Caterpillar tractor,” my husband explained. As if I had any experience with them either.

So, we head to the runway. I do the radio calls and take off with just a bit of voice control from Mark. We head south. I circle over Education Hall at Oregon State University. My, what a perspective of the place where I worked so long and seldom visit in my retirement schedule of classes.

Mark takes photos. I enjoy the views and then we head east. For the first time I take the airplane up to 5,000 feet so that we are above the 4,200-foot Snow Peak that marks the high point of the area where my husband worked as a forester for 36 years.

We circle the forest below. The old growth fir trees that we see taller than the others are what is called “The Park” on the 12,000-acre Avery Property. The trees are about 500 years old.

We head down toward the ridge that runs under our property. I delight in showing Mark things on the ground that I know and he does not: Richardson Gap and the towns of Mill City and Lyons. It is difficult to find my house within the square of tall firs that grow up around it.

Then we head toward highway 22, the known road that leads back toward the airport.

While I have learned how to better trim the airplane to keep from tense and unnecessary tightness on the controls, we have been in the air over an hour and I am a bit tired. I think of asking Mark to land the airplane. There is so much to do, or so it still seems to me: Call the tower once at 10 miles and again when requested. Make sure no radio traffic is directed at you. Think of your approach into the pattern. Begin to get lower and slower. Lower those flaps. Adjust to the winds. Watch for other traffic. Et cetera.

 While I know that Steve has some sense of what I can begin to handle with his help, I don’t know how my growing knowledge and skills will come together with Mark as we land with him doing some of the work. I decide to just ask him to do it all. But oh! Am I surprised! As Mark takes over the landing and I feel his hands and feet on the controls….I actually find anger rising up within me. Wait, I think, wait! I want to land this plane!  “Give me something to do,” I say with a rise in my voice. Mark releases the yoke to me and talks me down.

Wow, what did I learn from this different instructor besides to focus on the N number right in front of me when making a radio call? I learned that….I want to fly this airplane….myself…

Two weeks later…My flight instructor and I had exchanged emails and I said that, weather permitting, I would like to fly over the mountains to Sisters and back and my husband would go with me. Steve says, “Weather permitting, going to Sisters is fine with me. There is a disadvantage in that you will grow more as a pilot by working on pilot skills rather than doing cross-country flights.”

Weather was not permitting according to my standard briefing, and then Steve called because he was not even sure the low scattered clouds over the Salem field would allow for our flight at all. Since I had to drive through Salem anyway, on my way from an overnight and appointments in Portland, I stopped.

Steve decided it was perfect for touch and gos near the airport. We went over the pattern and the radio calls. I find out he has eight or nine in mind, and I have two or three! We discussed which parts of this I would do. There is so much to consider: radio calls to tower, elevation, airspeed, carburator heat, flaps up or down, turns, flight path, other planes, yipes! Take off, do a circle, touch down, and then put full power on and take off again! We did this four times and I told him it was enough for me though he had more in mind.

My flight lesson on that Wednesday keeps me smiling: scary, challenging, learning, and fun. It was like a roller coaster and merry-go-round combined. I just start to giggle every time I think about it! My adrenaline rush for at least two weeks.—Jean Moule

Bessie Coleman’s journey to flight

Wednesday, June 12th, 2013

Jean Moule last wrote about being a 67-year-old student pilot for the Flight Training blog. She is an emerita faculty member of Oregon State University, and a published writer and artist. Visit her website. —Ed.

Bessie_Coleman_and_her_plane_(1922)Who was the first American to hold an international pilot license?

Early in my training, my flight instructor introduced me to this aviation pioneer, Bessie Coleman. Steve Larsen, CFI, knew from my observations that I needed familiarity with the existence of Black women in aviation to help me, a woman of African descent, feel more comfortable in the left seat. He had connected me to another Black female student pilot as well.

Curious and inspired, I spent hours in Coleman’s history. Because flight schools in the United States would not teach Blacks, Bessie taught herself French, then went to France to learn and earn her pilot’s license.

Bessie was born in Texas in 1893 as one of 13 children of sharecroppers. She was gifted in math, loved books, and walked eight miles round trip to attend a one-room school for Blacks. She went to Oklahoma where she managed one term at a university, but had to leave due to lack of money. She returned to Waxahachie, Texas, and worked as a laundress. The small southern town had little to keep her challenged and engaged.

In 1915, at 23, Bessie moved to Chicago. She lived with her brothers and worked as a beautician, one time named as the best and fastest manicurist in the city. In Chicago Bessie heard and read stories of World War I soldiers and pilots as they returned from Europe. The stories opened possibilities. She and her brother, a soldier, talked.

“Those French women do something no colored girl has,” her brother teased. “They fly.”

Taking the challenge, Bessie decided to become a pilot. Due to both race and gender discrimination, she gave up trying to enter a flight school in the United States and began her study of French. She learned the language well enough to grasp the principles of flight and aeronautical terms in that language.  Then she went to France.

She completed a 10-month course in seven months. She earned her license and returned to the United States. She earned her living barnstorming and performing aerial tricks, specializing in stunt flying and parachuting. Beyond her own support, her goal was to start a flying school for African Americans.

Bessie’s high-flying skills wowed audiences of thousands. She was well known all over the United States, with huge headlines whenever she would be in the air.

During a rehearsal for a show in 1926, she leaned out of an airplane flown by her mechanic to check her parachute-landing site. The airplane began an unexpected dive toward the ground.

Bessie, unbelted and thrown out, fell 1,500 feet to her death.

The mechanic was unable to gain control of the airplane and died as well.  A misplaced wrench was later found lodged in the wreckage of the engine.

Thousands mourned for Bessie. Ten thousand people attended her three funerals. After her death at age 33, others took up her cause to begin flight schools that allowed Blacks entry.

Some of those who learned to fly in her memory and inspiration in these flight schools were early enrollees in the World War II Tuskegee Airmen Division.

Now I had a family link: My grandson’s great-grandfather was an instructor in that WW II division.

Bessie’s legacy continues down through the years: In 1929 the aviation school she worked to establish was founded in Los Angeles. Roads, highways, and flying clubs for women were named after her. In 1995 the U.S. Postal Service issued the Bessie Coleman stamp. And every year on Memorial Day, the Tuskegee Airmen fly over Brave Bessie’s grave and drop flowers in her honor.

My children have all flown commercially, as have my grandchildren. One grandchild, Chance—great-grandson of Tuskegee Airman Instructor James A. Hill—leads the rest: Before he was 5 years old he had flown on 120 flight segments.

For leading the way, I give my thanks to Elizabeth “Bessie” Coleman, the first American aviator of any race or gender to hold an international pilot license, the first person of African descent to be licensed in the United States, a pioneer in aviation education for all people, and a motivator for my own flying.

Here’s to Bessie, a woman of my hue and the first American licensed to fly anywhere in the world. Here’s to all those who venture into the air!

Bessie said, “Do you know that you have never lived until you have flown?”—Jean Moule

Nana Jean faces a challenge

Tuesday, May 14th, 2013

After reading a letter to the editor in the June Flight Training about a lack of women and minorities represented in aviation, Jean Moule sent this previously published blog to Editor Ian Twombly. We post it here with her permission.—Ed.

Jean Moule and her flight instructor, Steve Larsen.

Jean Moule and her flight instructor, Steve Larsen.

“75765, is there an instructor on board?” My erratic taxiing had been noted by the control tower. The basics seemed so difficult. Maybe it was a good thing that the threatening weather kept my instructor and me on the ground in our plane.

I stared through the raindrops on the aircraft windshield. Would I ever learn to fly? I have seen my grandchildren and my students begin a difficult task, become frustrated and put the material or task down with a sigh, lacking the will to continue. I have learned how to help them move past the barriers to try again. Could I do that for myself?

Rarely in my adult life have I faced tasks I found challenging beyond learning a new skill on the computer or how to work a new appliance or gadget. And rarely do these tasks have high emotional impact or the kinds of pressure one may experience when the task is complex, cognitively difficult and watched over intently by a teacher.

Perhaps I needed a reminder of such experiences. Five years ago in “Ask Nana Jean” I wrote about my climb up Mt. Kilimanjaro in Tanzania and concluded with my desire to reach more heights. Climb another mountain? Learn to fly? And that is how I found myself behind the controls of an airplane, I in the pilot seat and the instructor on controls on the right. Could I reach high places in a plane?

This was my 3rd lesson; this time with a substitute instructor. The checklist with 120 items and a cockpit with a lot more dials than a car seemed bewildering. Afterwards, as I paid for my half hour on the ground my head filled over and over with “Why am I doing this?” I reminded myself: I want to learn to fly…

  •  Because I like heights.
  • Because I want additional perspectives.
  • Because I need exhilaration and a new challenge.

I drove home feeling dejected, the rain and gray clouds matching my mood. I knew that at some point I would have to find the reserves to try again. I tried to encourage myself by thinking about other challenging things I have accomplished:

  •  Remember learning to drive a car?
  • Remember handling an excavator that one time?
  • Remember learning to ski or pull a sled while on ski patrol?
  • Remember learning to teach!

I made a list of resolutions and requests that I believed would help me continue on:

  •  Get a copy of the preflight checklist and go over it at home
  • Get a life-sized poster of the cockpit and practice touching the right switches
  • Ask my instructor to taxi next time to at least get us off the ground

And finally, I remembered the pleasure I receive when my own students begin to grasp a concept that is hard for them. So my final reason for continuing with my lessons? My instructors may feel blessed when their challenging and challenged student finally makes progress. They, too, will have a student whose success they will remember fondly…when she finally leans to fly solo.

Ten days later:

I flew today. My instructor watched as I turned the plane over our house, circled the small town of Lyons where we used to live, flew over the road I take to work. Up and down. Level flight, smooth turns and a deep satisfaction. Now I need to learn to take off and land!

What a contrast to just a few days ago when I almost put down my pilot log-book for good.

My words for myself and others: when the journey gets tough, be strong and continue on. No matter how long it takes.—Jean Moule 

Jean Moule is an emerita faculty member of Oregon State University, and a published writer and artist. Visit her website.—Ed.