Solo Time!

by ANN Managing Editor Rob Finfrock

When I last left off, my instructor and I were grounded in Ocala, FL due to weather... giving me my first taste of an unscheduled stopover due to conditions completely beyond my control. As with most other experiences during my training so far, I viewed it as a valuable lesson; better to be on the ground, wishing you were in the sky, than the other way around.

That was my attitude Sunday evening, anyway. When I awoke Monday morning to find Ocala socked in with fog, and the forecast showing little sign of improving until much later in the day... I briefly wondered whether we could have, in fact, made it as far as Palatka last evening. Were the clouds REALLY that low?

I had another concern, as well. One of the advantages of working with Aero-News is I can do my job pretty much anywhere, so long as there's web access. Sure enough, the Comfort Inn had free Internet access... but my trusty Dell Inspiron had chosen the night before to die a whirring death, after close to three years of traveling from Palm Springs to Arlington, from Albuquerque to Oshkosh.

I'd usually have no problem whatsoever with calling Jim Campbell up, and saying "sorry, can't work -- you need to take the day!" but this was March 31. The next day was April Fools Day... and well, you know what the ANN staff does for THAT day. I had to get somewhere I could work.

By noon, the clouds were still clinging within 500 feet of ground level, and I had a tough choice to make. It was obvious that Jim Crone, my instructor, and I couldn't fly the rest of the way home any time soon. But I did have to get back to Green Cove Springs to work... which pretty much left just one option.

Fortunately, the gang at Landmark Aviation was able to round up a rental car for us, and by 1 pm Jim and I were slogging our way down Florida backroads in a Rent-A-Jetta, heading due northeast, figuring we'd make the return trip the next morning to retrieve the plane.

We arrived back at Haller at 3:30. As I got down to the business of fabricating tall tales of aviation for ANN's April 1st Edition (for the record, the idea for "goWest" was born somewhere west of Interlachen) Jim dialed up the AWOS at Ocala... which, of course, now reported 2,000-foot ceilings, and light winds. As we'd driven north on 17, Jim and I had each commented on how the clouds appeared to be lifting.

"I think I can make it," Jim said. "It's only going to get better."

So -- trooper that he is -- Jim was soon headed back southwest towards Ocala, to retrieve our trusty Polish-made aerial chariot. I regretted I couldn't go, of course, but I did have to work. (I figured Jim was also entitled to some air time by himself, without having to worry about a hamfisted student mucking things up.)

Jim landed just after 7:30 at Haller. "That was a great flight!" he told me, adding he'd flown over Travolta's place at Jumbolair, and had seen the tail of his 707 sticking out the covered parking area.

*****

With the Gobosh (and Jim) safely back at base, we could get down to business once again... and by "business" I of course mean finally being able to boot my instructor unceremoniously out of the plane. (Since I liked him, I figured we could do this on the ground.) In all seriousness, Jim and I both agreed I could have soloed Saturday in Punta Gorda, had I not started feeling a little green around the gills.

Tuesday, April 1, presented the near-perfect chance for me to finally reach the solo milestone in the Gobosh. The previous day's rainy weather had cleared out overnight, leaving clear skies with only a few puffy, high clouds, and moderate temperatures. When Jim and I took off from Haller that morning, I knew it was only a matter of time.

After 1.1 hours of dual instruction -- mostly checkride prep, including practicing the accelerated- and-cross-controlled- stalls we'd planned to do over Punta Gorda -- Jim and I landed at Palatka, and refueled. We then taxied over to the FBO, and shut down. I assumed the next time the Gobosh's Rotax powerplant fired up, it would be with me, and only me, in the cockpit.

And I was right. With no ceremony, Jim took my logbook "to jot some notes down" while I grabbed a bottled water. After a few minutes of scribbling his endorsement, Jim handed me my logbook, and my marching orders. "Take her up into the practice area, do some turns and slow flight, then do your three landings when you get back." He then grinned. "I'm taking a nap."

I walked out to the plane with a mix of excitement, and only a little nervousness... but not really about the prospect of soloing. Just before we'd shut down, I'd noted the Skydive Palatka plane was taking off, carrying a load of jumpers. We'd been in the FBO about 10 minutes -- just about enough time for the first wave to be ready to go.

Confirmation of that thinking came almost the moment I switched the avionics master on, after starting the engine. "Skydiver in one minute!" the pilot said forcefully over the CTAF. "Palatka traffic, be advised we'll have one jumper over the airport in one minute."

I finished the post-start checklist, then turned my eyes skyward from the ramp. The route to the active runway -- 27 today, with a good breeze from the southwest -- goes right past the drop zone target on the field, so I figured I'd wait to taxi out until the parachutist was safely on the ground. With the engine idling and brakes firmly applied, I watched through the Gobosh's canopy as the skydiver floated overhead, down to Earth. From my perspective, he appeared to land directly in the center of the drop zone.

I took this as a good omen, as I throttled up and headed for the runway. After my run-up, I called out on the CTAF, and took the runway. The improvement to the Gobosh's takeoff performance without Jim onboard was negligible, though I was mindful to pitch up even more cautiously on rotation than I had earlier.

Once on downwind, I marvelled just a bit at the progress I'd made in a week; it had only been that long since I hadn't been able to taxi in a straight line, nevermind takeoff... and well, look at me now!

I climbed out of the pattern on downwind, just as the skydiving plane called out the imminent drop of a second wave of jumpers; it looked like Jim's advice to head to the practice area first would be a good idea. I leveled off at 2,000 feet just as I reached the shore of the St. John's River, and took a second to look below, at boaters on the water.

They may think they're having fun down there, I thought. But they should really try this sometime.

Once in the unofficial practice area, about 10 miles from 28J, I cleared the area around the plane and delved first into turns. Picking out an "island" on the river as my reference point, I started my maneuvering.

No surprise, I had no problem with 30-degree 360s to either side, while maintaining altitude and airspeed... and while my 45-degree turns to the left were also acceptable, my attempts to duplicate the same results to the right were met by oscillations in altitude. It's not uncommon for pilots in the left seat of a side-by-side aircraft to climb on right turns... but I'd performed them fine with Jim onboard, and now I was having problems with this -- and, apparently, only this -- by myself. No matter what I did, I couldn't hold my altitude.

OK, if at first you don't succeed... come back to it later, I decided. I leveled the wings on a northerly course, and configured the Gobosh for slow flight, with a target speed of 60 knots.

It was during this exercise the only two ergonomic foibles in the Gobosh cockpit -- things I'd have done differently, if only they'd asked -- became most evident. Admittedly, one of those miscues -- the placement of the trim wheel, on the center console directly abeam my gluteal region -- probably wouldn't be as much of an issue for a thinner pilot, but because of my bulk, reaching the trim wheel required an odd contortion of my right arm.

Fortunately, it only takes VERY minor adjustments of the wheel to trim out the Gobosh; I learned quickly that if I turned the wheel more than a hairsbreadth, I'd probably overtrimmed.

The second item, though, I never fully came to terms with. The 700S has a conventional push-pull throttle lever, like many a Cessna single before it. The plane actually has two throttle levers: one in the center, and one on the far left, ostensibly so a pilot may use his or her left hand for power inputs. I never touched it -- I always flew with my left hand and controlled the throttle, flaps and trim with my right, just as I had since my first days of training, although I'm right handed.

The push-pull throttle works well enough in principle... but early on, both Jim and I noted a tendency for the throttle to creep forward, towards full open, unless the friction ring was tightened almost to full resistance. That, in turn, made it difficult to move the lever... not an issue so much when in-flight, but it could be problematic if you needed to go to full throttle -- or full idle -- on short final.

Jim and I eventually found the "sweet spot" between throttle movement and resistance, and in most modes of flight it became second nature... but now, as I worked the Gobosh's throttle to find just the right amount of power to hold my target airspeed of 60, it again occurred to me there's a better way of doing this already out there.

The SportStar I flew last year had a vernier-type throttle, similar to what's found on Beech Bonanzas. To make substantial throttle inputs, a pushbutton at the tip of the lever releases the lever, so the throttle may be operated in the conventional push-pull fashion... but for minor power changes, the throttle lever also twists, allowing for incremental changes. Flying the Gobosh, I realized how much I missed this arrangement.

Would it stop me from purchasing a 700S, or refusing one if offered? Of course not -- and as I already said, once the "sweet spot" in resistance was found, the push-pull system was perfectly workable. But the vernier-style arrangement seems a better match for LSA equipped with the peaky Rotax; with an available power band of over 2,000 rpm, the additional control and precision the vernier throttle provides seems to me to be an asset.

After 10 minutes or so of puttering around, and over, the river, it was time to head back to Palatka. After checking the skies around me, I made a 270-degree steep right turn to head back to the airport; I held altitude a little better this time around, but still busted the 100-foot barrier as I leveled the wings again. Dang-nabbit!

Approaching 28J, I heard two other planes in the pattern -- one Skyhawk, and a Cirrus. Runway 27 was still the active runway, and my approach made a midfield entry on left downwind the best course of action, although it would also require a dogleg to the south. Ah well; I really wasn't in a hurry.

Slotting in behind the Cirrus and ahead of the Skyhawk, I was soon turning base just as the low-wing single crossed the numbers. I had ample time to configure the plane for landing; there was a shallow crosswind from the left on final, but a slight crab kept me on track.

My first landing -- make that my first two -- was a bouncer. Damn it, flat again! Instead of powering up to save it, I elected to go-around, to collect my bearings. C'mon, Finfrock!

Another lap of the pattern, and my time had once again come. Fly 60 on final, cross the threshold at 55, I repeated to myself. Once over the numbers, I gradually brought the nose up... and up... and up... until the stall horn wailed, just as I was about two inches off the ground.

The Gobosh landed softly on its mains -- first the left wheel, then the right -- its nose proud in the air.

Awright! Do that again... and was anyone watching? Throttle in, half-flaps, and I was off again. My third landing also brought on the stall horn, although it wasn't quite a smooth a touchdown as the second one had been.

As I taxied back to the FBO (gee, funny how I'm no longer having issues with the plane's castering nosewheel...) I pondered what had gone wrong on the first landing... and, what had gone right.

Even though I'd landed flat and fast, the plane's nose remained rod-straight down the centerline; my previous issues with keeping the nose lined-up hadn't resurfaced here. The plane was still intact, so was the pilot, and two-thirds of those landings were to checkride standards otherwise.

All in all... not a bad way to spend April 1. No foolin'.

(Special thanks to Hernan Enriquez, for use of his photo of me taxiing in at 28J -- Rob)

Coming Next Thursday: Affirmation

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