Posts Tagged ‘Jean Moule’

Extremes

Monday, December 15th, 2014

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

Sea cliffs of Molokai, Hawaii.

Sea cliffs of Molokai, Hawaii.

Extreme tradewinds, extreme cliffs (the highest seacliffs in the world), and extreme isolation. We travelled from Oregon, my CFI from Argentina. Jean again tests the training waters, this time in the middle of the ocean in Hawaii.

John, the owner of Maui Aviators, says his endorsement notation for a student pilot for solo flights was questioned when he added the following conditions, “able to handle winds to 25 knots gusting to 30 and a 40 degrees off the nose crosswind.”

People in the midst of training from Kahului Airport must contend with the winds every takeoff and landing. The winds reminded me of the one that blew my preflight sheet off the cowling of the airplane in Salem, Oregon, and elicited the comment from a flight instructor that student pilots would not be allowed to function solo in those winds. “Anything over 6 or 7 knots could be a challenge,” he said.

Here in Maui that is all there is.

mapproachingOf course my CFI Lucas knew how to handle such winds, and I was surprised how easy he made this flight. For the first time a CFI was honest and just put in my log, “scenic flight,” oops, I misread, it says, “basic flight maneuvers.” I have had “mountain flying, bird avoidance, scanning,” and, “climbs [duh],taxi, trim, turns.” The more experienced CFIs have led me through “stalls, steep turns, t.o. and landing.” One of my favorite simple ones: ”Intro to seaplane flying.” Another CFI, recognizing my infrequent lessons, wrote, “Discovery Flight.” Six weeks from my last training flight, I was OK with that.

Though only 29 and in his fourth year as a CFI, Lucas in Maui was wise in the ways of this area and did all he could to increase our air time, doing much of the runup himself as I was in need of review and, of course, most Cessnas are slightly different by year. Fuel injection and no carb heat in this one. And, for the first time, I helped the CFI fuel the airplane. He clearly stated each item on the checklist as he performed it or asked me to do so. I felt refreshed by his manner and the winds.

As usual, I felt the surge of energy as I pushed the throttle in and rotated for takeoff.

We crossed the channel, then we flew near the cliffs of Molokai. Lucas wisely took over the plane as I gawked.

“Wow” and “I had no idea,” I exclaimed over and over as we flew. My photos cannot begin to convey the vastness, the isolation, or the height of these falls. At one point when we flew along, I noted that the cliff tops were higher than the airplane and the altimeter read 2,000 feet. Yep. Highest drop, highest seacliffs in the world. Except some of the falls fell into pools nestled in the rocks before continuing the dizzying descent. Verdant green of many hues, inaccessible except by boat or air. And Lucas calmly communicated with the rare flights near us.

As we flew along the cliffs of Molokai and I took over the airplane again, Lucas asked if I wanted to do a touch and go on a flat spot of the island. “Sure,” I said. This isolated site is reached by mule, boat, or airplane. For many years lepers were dropped near shore to swim to their isolated treatment at this former leper colony.

The excitement of the touch and go kept me from sightseeing here. With help I land and take off and soar again near the cliffs. We edge just a bit closer when I ask Lucas to take the controls while I take photos.

The extreme isolation of the leper colony and its small, short runway reminded me of my last lesson in the Bay Area in California (flight school unnamed). There I reached an extreme I wish not to repeat. The headsets did not work properly. Although I could hear the CFI, he could only hear me if I talked loudly in the cockpit. With such a glitch I was not comfortable landing the airplane, even with detailed instruction and his handling of the radio communication.

Yet I have landed enough so I have a feel for the approach and altitude for a comfortable, non-emergency landing. We had on board my husband and a former college instructor who had been a pilot. Instead of turning in the pattern and lining up the runway, the CFI overshot the end of the runway way too high and, after the necessary correction turn, too little of the runway left in my humble and inexperienced opinion. At this point I heard my former college professor/former pilot calmly and assertively say from the backseat, “We need to go around.”

We did not. The CFI steeply banked the airplane and descended very quickly. With a bit of dryness in my throat I watched as the CFI, knowing the weight in the airplane and the long length in the runway, brought this bird down safely with a bit of runway to spare. One lesson about safe parameters learned, but not one I plan to practice on purpose (or is this a standard lesson? And what about not scaring the student?).

In Kahului, Maui, Hawaii, with help, I landed in the crosswind in between large commercial jets, the runway nicely stretched out in front of us before we taxied to Maui Aviators.

Extreme flight training at its worst and best. Adrenaline high reached on both.—Jean Moule

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Surprises all around

Tuesday, August 19th, 2014

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

glacierYou have spent months planning, days hiking. Your tents are pitched on a finger of land that sticks out into Bench Lake in the wilderness on the Kenai Peninsula in Alaska. Suddenly a floatplane lands on the water and comes to a stop in the middle of the small lake you had thought your own. The plane taxis to the end of the lake to again face into the wind and takes off. You stand with others in your group wondering, as you always will, why did that plane land here? What was that all about?

Watching the airplane fly off into the distance, you see it even more mysteriously take a turn in the air. Is it wildlife? Unknown to you, the airplane circled around a snowmobile abandoned in this wilderness.

This introduction to floatplane flying by a new, young CFI certainly had its moments for both me and life on the ground. The bear we circled was as surprised as the people. My sense is that a more experienced CFI would not have caught such attention from both the wild and people life. And while he never scared me exactly, flying close to the mountains to catch the updrafts for flight caused me to not take the controls as much as I might. In the end, I controlled the flaps and the water rudder because, in the Super Cub, he could not reach them anyway. The bottom line: Did I have fun? he asked after we returned to the dock. Oh yes.

tailnumberThe views were awesome. Could I say anything but “Wow!” asked the pilot in the other airplane that held most of my family. We took off and landed together on Trail Lake; I circled Paradise Valley while my family flew over the Harding Ice Field in a bigger, faster airplane.

Alaska will never be the same for me now that I have seen the backcountry, which makes up most of Alaska anyway, from the air. So many lakes, almost always a place to land—or maybe “land” is not the correct word, when you finish up on water.

My family and I have a lively conversation the night before about how a floatplane pilot gets to the dock. Carefully, and with experience, I find out. My CFI is embarrassed when our airplane goes quiet and still several feet from the dock. Only the presence of someone who could throw him a rope saves us from other ways to make that dock.

His mentor, the 75-year-old pilot who took my family up, stands just a tad mortified as the airplane is pulled into place.

bench lake with tentsI don’t mind. I was along for the ride and scenery anyway. And I did learn a bit about floatplanes. My first pleasure was the water taxiing (no yellow line to nail) and the views, especially the images of the other airplane carrying my family were incredible. Our hour in the sky was well worth our weeks of planning, days of travelling, and getting seven people up and out on schedule for our flights. The Alaska weather cooperated. No rain and the clouds rested at about 5,000 feet. The group on the Cessna 206 sometimes seemed a tad squeezed between the Harding Icefield and the clouds. Our smaller airplane played in the hidden valleys and did a practice land and takeoff for those surprised hikers. They wonder why we landed. I wonder if I will ever get in a floatplane again. Mysteries.—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.

 

 

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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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.