Learning The Quirks Of N702GB

by ANN Managing Editor Rob Finfrock

"Well, you land on grass REALLY well!" That enthusiastic statement from my instructor, Jim Crone, pretty much sums up how my training had progressed through Wednesday morning, the start of the second day of my accelerated flight training on the Gobosh 700S... since that's about all I did spot-on, perfect, pop the champagne.

We had spent most of the morning's lesson down at Palatka, shooting touch-and-goes to work on my takeoff and landing techniques. Despite the progress I had made the evening before, I felt myself slipping again -- I still veered left on takeoff, and was coming in flat on landing.

On the way to the airfield, we also did some more slow flight, progressing into a few power-off stalls. I had performed the maneuvers competently, becoming much more comfortable with stall recovery with practice. The plane had a tendency to dip its right wing a bit at incipience (it did with Jim, too) but a short kick of left rudder always brought the nose back, and the plane started flying again the very moment the nose was lowered to the horizon.

Despite that progress, though... takeoffs and landings were kicking by you-know-what. I'm beating myself up a little here, I know. Looking back on that lesson now, I know didn't do all that poorly... but by the time we'd returned back to Haller, I knew I had some niggling issues that persisted, that were throwing me a little bit for a loop.

And, like a good instructor should, Jim had some more ideas on how to cure myself of my own mental block. "It sounds kinda hokey, but you really do have to develop a feel for the plane," he told me after we landed. "You have to visualize how it reacts to your inputs. You have to help it maneuver in the way you want it to. It wants to help you."

Actually, that didn't sound hokey at all; if anything, I appreciate a Zen approach to flying. So Wednesday afternoon, before we took off again... I sat in the Gobosh's cockpit for a few minutes, visualizing the proper nose attitude on takeoff and landing... and generally communing with the plane.

Even with some setbacks, I was having great fun flying the Gobosh. In just 36 hours or so, I'd come to consider the plane "mine!" -- at least for the next 10 days or so. Jim and I agreed the Gobosh both looks and feels very substantial, compared with some other LSAs we had each spent time in.

As befitting the company's demonstrator model, N702GB is a top-of-the-line Elite Plus Edition -- complete with a GPS 496 and a single VOR receiver in the panel, and leather seats. Even the lowliest 700S base model sports a true six-pack of analog gauges, just like a "real" plane... something you have to pay extra for in most LSA, if available at all (of course, an increasing number of aircraft sport glass panels, as does Gobosh's recently unveiled 800XP.)

Alas, some of that heftier impression is also due to, literally, heft. At 820 lbs empty weight listed -- including avionics -- the 700S tips towards the heavier end of the light sport spectrum... offering about 500 lbs of useful load for occupants, fuel and baggage. (Jim and I had to be mindful of that limit when loading the 700S, thanks to the fact my bulk alone takes up about half that allotment.) By comparison, the SportStar I flew last year weighed in at under 700 lbs empty, and offered close to 600 lbs load. Even at the Evektor's lower gross weight, that's still a nearly 100-pound advantage.

Regardless of that weight disparity, though, one can't argue Poland's Aero -- manufacturer of the 700S, also known as the AT-4 -- used the extra weight to its best advantage. In addition to a full panel, there are other signs of "big plane" thinking.

Jim, who took the plane through its 100-hour inspection just before we started training, noted the 700S main wingspar appears quite substantial -- "like a Piper." The 700S also offers a wide gear stance, that to my untrained eye (and unpolished landing technique) seemed a bit sturdier than some other LSAs... an important consideration in the training role, to be sure.

After about 20 minutes of me sitting in the plane -- moving the controls, fiddling with the gauges, noting how the nose looked relative to the ground, and imploring 2GB to help make me look like a competent pilot -- Jim came out carrying his flight bag. "Ready to fly?"

A thorough preflight, a routine engine startup, and we were ready to go. I taxied out to the end of the south runway, announced our intentions on Haller's CTAF, and advanced the throttle. Okay, no more veering Finfrock, make this one count.

Alas... what resulted was my single-worst takeoff attempt to occur during all my training. Despite standing on the right rudder, once I shoved in full throttle I simply could not get the plane's nose centered without resorting to using the brakes. My ground roll was atrocious; Jim took over as we veered precipitously towards a drainage ditch near midfield.

Dammit! "Well, let's try that again," Jim said calmly.

My second attempt was more serviceable... enough so, at least, to get us off the runway, and into the air. By this time, I was really missing direct nosewheel steering; part of my problem, I felt, was the free-castering nosewheel, which of course provides no directional control when starting the takeoff roll.

As I pointed the plane's nose directly -- and somewhat indignantly -- towards Palatka, Jim promised he still had some more ideas. "We're gonna take care of this before the night's over," he assured me.

After a decent landing at Palatka -- well, at least I did something right -- Jim took over as we taxied back to the end of the runway. "We need to find your sweet spot in balancing throttle with rudder," he said.

"Bring the plane around just a bit right of centerline, start giving it throttle, and keep the plane lined up just to the right during takeoff," he told me. "Keep the centerline in sight, and don't let the plane cross the line... don't let it veer right, either, but you get the idea."

He then turned the plane back over to me. As we taxied out, I applied a bit of throttle as I crossed the centerline... which brought the plane's nose directly parallel to it, pointing us straight down the runway. I then slowly advanced the throttle to full... all the while keeping the centerline in my peripheral vision. Sure enough, the line remained just to the left of the aircraft as I juggled rudder application to keep us pointing straight.

Well, whaddya know...

As they say, confidence breeds confidence. My sense of accomplishment carried through past the rollout; I nailed 60 knots on the climb, and held it through our turns to crosswind and downwind, until we hit pattern altitude. Jim waited until we leveled off at 1,000 feet to acknowledge the victory. "See? Do that again!"

And I did! Twice more I took us into the air, rod-straight down the runway. Following my third landing -- which, like nearly all my other landings, was still flat -- we taxied over to the self-service pumps for fuel.

"OK, your takeoffs seem to be coming along," Jim said as we fueled the plane. "Now, let's get your landings down, and we can head home."

With about an hour of daylight left, Jim taxied us back to the runway. "Remember how you used the rudder to keep the nose straight during the high-speed taxi last night? Now, let's add a new variable to that."

Following yet another spot-on takeoff, Jim took over the controls as we turned base-to-final. "I'm going to lightly touch down, then add just enough power to lift off, then settle back down. Follow me on the controls, and note how the nose stays high."

As a passenger, it was somewhat unsettling to feel the mains touch down... then lift off as Jim applied power... then settle back down again. Palatka's 6,000-foot Runway 9 allowed Jim to perform five "bounce-and-goes" (my term) before we took off again. He then had me duplicate the maneuver... and as it turned out, it was actually a lot of fun, and a great lesson on precise control inputs.

The second lesson was even more fun: holding the plane in ground effect on landing, keeping the mains about a foot or so off the runway, using throttle inputs to hold the plane off the ground. It's all about balancing the plane in ground effect, and hanging on the prop.

"This is so cool!" I exclaimed, before grumbling good-naturedly as I felt the mains kiss the runway ever-so-gently.

After a few more touch-and-goes, we turned back towards Haller. By now the clock was approaching 8 pm, near the end of civil twilight. My landing at back at Haller was another greaser; if only all runways were grass...

Still, I now had a sense of accomplishment that had been elusive since we'd started. And I knew who should get credit for it. "Thanks, bud," I told Jim after we shut down.

Coming Thursday: The FAA Written Exam... And A Long Cross-Country!

FMI: www.gobosh.aero, www.sportpilot.org, www.eaa.org