Fired up my Cessna with three phantom passengers on the GA ramp at San Francisco and called for taxi and clearance into the San Francisco Class B, with a destination of the tiny South County airport about 24 miles south of San Jose.
I was offered and accepted an intersection departure from 28R. I had to wait a while for wake turbulence. ATC told me to make a speedy left crosswind departure at or below 3500 and advised me to keep the 101 freeway on my right. Unfortunately, I couldn't find the 101 on the charts—the highways were there, but I couldn't see any indication of which was which. So I asked for direct Woodside, but ATC gave me direct San Jose instead, which was fine with me. I made my way to San Jose at about 2800 feet, then ATC advised me to turn to 120, which would take me to South County. Sure enough, a few minutes later, I was there. I made a nice smooth landing and taxied to the terminal.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Oakland - Orange County / Boeing 737-800 (SWA3854) / IFR
I decided to fly something different for a change of pace, so I mirrored Southwest Airlines Flight 3854, from Oakland to John Wayne Airport (Orange County), a one-hour flight.
The flight was pretty routine, through about a 4/8 or 5/8 overcast the whole way. I was cleared for a visual approach to 19R after the TANDY3 arrival. I was in a daring mood, so I switched off the autopilot and autothrottle and flew the approach by hand. It was hard to see the field at first because of low clouds, but once I saw it and was cleared for the approach, I made a nice smooth turn just west of Disneyland and came around quite well aligned with the runway centerline. My descent rate was good, too, and I was at Vref just as I was supposed to be. The only problem is that I drifted right for some reason during the last half mile or so, and big airplanes being what they are, I couldn't coax it back onto the centerline before I flared, so I landed with some of the main wheels on the paved perimeter of the runway. That would be a bumpy and expensive mistake in real life. I can see it's going to take some practice to get it right. At least I can land little planes without any trouble now (I recall when that was a challenge, too).
The flight was pretty routine, through about a 4/8 or 5/8 overcast the whole way. I was cleared for a visual approach to 19R after the TANDY3 arrival. I was in a daring mood, so I switched off the autopilot and autothrottle and flew the approach by hand. It was hard to see the field at first because of low clouds, but once I saw it and was cleared for the approach, I made a nice smooth turn just west of Disneyland and came around quite well aligned with the runway centerline. My descent rate was good, too, and I was at Vref just as I was supposed to be. The only problem is that I drifted right for some reason during the last half mile or so, and big airplanes being what they are, I couldn't coax it back onto the centerline before I flared, so I landed with some of the main wheels on the paved perimeter of the runway. That would be a bumpy and expensive mistake in real life. I can see it's going to take some practice to get it right. At least I can land little planes without any trouble now (I recall when that was a challenge, too).
Lake Tahoe - San Francisco / Cessna 182RG II (N7167V) / VFR
I decided to fly from Tahoe to San Francisco, via the narrow valley that Highway 50 follows west and south of the lake. VFR conditions prevailed throughout the valley, although things got cloudy thereafter. Technically, I wasn't always in VFR conditions, but it didn't make any difference because there was no ATC online to help me with IFR, anyway. I just tried to avoid the bigger clouds as I encountered them.
This was a straightforward flight from VOR to VOR, Hangtown to Linden to Manteca, then west 44 DME and a turn to 254 until I intercepted the 283 radial from SFO, then up to the airport. I could have gone straight in visually but I flew the ILS by hand for practice. Landing was glassy smooth.
This was a straightforward flight from VOR to VOR, Hangtown to Linden to Manteca, then west 44 DME and a turn to 254 until I intercepted the 283 radial from SFO, then up to the airport. I could have gone straight in visually but I flew the ILS by hand for practice. Landing was glassy smooth.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Reno - Lake Tahoe / Cessna 182RG II (N7167V) / VFR
Just a quick jump over to Lake Tahoe, following Highway 395 then Highway 50. It was misty and rainy and I had clouds not far above me, but it was still VFR. Lots of turbulence over the mountains along Highway 50, but smooth over the lake, and a perfect landing.
Flagstaff - Reno / Cessna 182RG II (N7167V) / VFR
I believe this is the longest flight I've undertaken in one of my general-aviation aircraft. It covered more than 580 nautical miles and required five hours.
I took off from Flagstaff with three willing passengers and myself, accompanied by plenty of supplementary oxygen. The airfield alone is already at over 7000 feet. With four people aboard plus a full load of fuel, it took quite a while to gain any altitude; the nearby mountains were even more nearby than I would have liked. However, we still had plenty of margin.
The first leg was a straight line from Flagstaff to the Peach Springs VOR, on V291, itself a distance of 96 nm. I then departed Peach Springs on V562 to the MEADS intersection over Lake Mead, which was another 56 nm. So far, so good. The weather was nice. I flew these legs at 8500 for the most part, descending to 6500 after clearing the Grand Wash Cliffs, and then descending to 4500 as I crossed MEADS.
I got my clearance into the Las Vegas Class B and advised that I planned to take the Cortez transition, following the 249 radial to LAS until I got to the Wash Marina, then up past the El Cortez, then towards North Las Vegas and up northwest out of the Class B. From the Class B, I followed U. S. Route 95, taking care to stay west and south of the highway, which would guarantee that I'd be clear of the mysterious restricted airspace on the Nellis Test Range (home of the famous Area 51). That's when the trouble started.
I had carelessly departed without examining the weather along the way, although I probably would not have foreseen what I encountered, anyway. As I left Las Vegas, the clouds that had been growing thicker for some time suddenly closed in around me, and visibility dropped to perhaps two miles. Los Angeles Center was not online, so I couldn't ask for a pop-up IFR clearance, and the Cessna is not well equipped for instrument flight, although it has the essentials. By an unhappy coincidence, I had planned to fly this particular leg out of Las Vegas by pilotage, by following the highway until at least as far as the Amargosa Valley. But now the highway was gone. In fact, everything was gone—all I had around me was mist.
I put on a good imitation of professionalism for the sake of my passengers, but the situation was worrisome. I knew that rising terrain and mountains hemmed me in on both sides: nearly 12,000 feet to the west, and nearly 10,000 feet to the east … and I was at 4500 feet, which was plenty for following the highway, but did not leave any margin should I stray too far from U. S. 95. Now I couldn't see the highway, so that worried me. At first I tried climbing to 6500 to see if I could get out of the mist, but that didn't work. I then recalled that I had been west of the highway, so I descended carefully back down to 4500 and turned east. A glance at the radial I was on from LAS and the DME seemed to confirm that I was indeed just west of the highway, although it was hard to evaluate this because I couldn't afford to take my eyes off the instruments and the outside view for very long.
After a minute or two of searching in all directions, I spotted lights on the highway, or on a highway—it was hard to tell if it was truly U. S. 95, but there weren't supposed to be any other major highways in the vicinity. I came in low over the highway and followed it, taking care to remain on the west side of the highway. Once I was stable along the highway, I did some double checking against my position with respect to the LAS VOR and also in relation to the Mercury NDB just north of Desert Rock. The results were encouraging: I seemed to be clear of restricted airspace and more or less where I should be with respect to my planned route.
The highway was barely visible below me, so I had to constantly watch it or risk losing it. Every time I looked at the charts and looked back out the window the highway had moved and was disappearing, and I'd have to search desperately for it left and right and then steer back towards it. Too far from the highway and I'd either meet the ground or I'd meet a couple of jet fighters. Gradually, though, I grew increasingly confident of my position, by looking at where I was in relation to LAS and Mercury, and by comparing the twists and turns of the highway to the chart.
I proceeded in this way all up the highway, until the twirling of my ADF told me that I was passing Mercury. By then I was able to receive the BTY VOR, and so I climbed to 6500 and picked the 120 radial from the VOR to keep me over the desert valley and clear of the dreaded R-4808.
Once I had BTY, things got a lot easier, since most of the rest of the flight referenced VORs. From BTY I flew to LIDAT, climbing to 8500, then direct TPH, taking care to make a slight detour to the west to avoid R-4807A. I was trying to avoid high mountains, too, to minimize the amount of oxygen my passengers and I would need. From TPH it was direct MVA, with a reluctant slow climb to 10,500 feet MSL. From MVA it was V584 all the way to CHIME, where I had originally planned to turn west onto V494 to sneak around the mountains. However, with clear air below me (and a cloud deck above) at 10,500, I could see Reno from CHIME, so I just decided to go right over the mountains.
Once I could see that I was clear of the mountains southeast of Reno, I spotted the valley to the south where I had originally planned to make my approach, and descended into the valley to make a right base for 34R. There was a ton of turbulence on the way down (not to mention a bit before that on the way in) and it made us a bit queasy, but I finally got us down in one piece, although some strong gusts just over the runway made it a bit wild in the last few seconds before touchdown.
So, nearly five hours after I took off, I taxied over to a GA ramp at Reno and parked. We were all tired.
Of course, people who have never done serious flight simulation will dismiss this flight as just a game. It doesn't feel that way if you take it seriously, though. Even though you know in the back of your mind that you cannot be hurt in a simulation, it's still a shot of adrenalin to be stuck in solid IMC inadvertently when you had planned for VMC all the way. But it's good practice.
I took off from Flagstaff with three willing passengers and myself, accompanied by plenty of supplementary oxygen. The airfield alone is already at over 7000 feet. With four people aboard plus a full load of fuel, it took quite a while to gain any altitude; the nearby mountains were even more nearby than I would have liked. However, we still had plenty of margin.
The first leg was a straight line from Flagstaff to the Peach Springs VOR, on V291, itself a distance of 96 nm. I then departed Peach Springs on V562 to the MEADS intersection over Lake Mead, which was another 56 nm. So far, so good. The weather was nice. I flew these legs at 8500 for the most part, descending to 6500 after clearing the Grand Wash Cliffs, and then descending to 4500 as I crossed MEADS.
I got my clearance into the Las Vegas Class B and advised that I planned to take the Cortez transition, following the 249 radial to LAS until I got to the Wash Marina, then up past the El Cortez, then towards North Las Vegas and up northwest out of the Class B. From the Class B, I followed U. S. Route 95, taking care to stay west and south of the highway, which would guarantee that I'd be clear of the mysterious restricted airspace on the Nellis Test Range (home of the famous Area 51). That's when the trouble started.
I had carelessly departed without examining the weather along the way, although I probably would not have foreseen what I encountered, anyway. As I left Las Vegas, the clouds that had been growing thicker for some time suddenly closed in around me, and visibility dropped to perhaps two miles. Los Angeles Center was not online, so I couldn't ask for a pop-up IFR clearance, and the Cessna is not well equipped for instrument flight, although it has the essentials. By an unhappy coincidence, I had planned to fly this particular leg out of Las Vegas by pilotage, by following the highway until at least as far as the Amargosa Valley. But now the highway was gone. In fact, everything was gone—all I had around me was mist.
I put on a good imitation of professionalism for the sake of my passengers, but the situation was worrisome. I knew that rising terrain and mountains hemmed me in on both sides: nearly 12,000 feet to the west, and nearly 10,000 feet to the east … and I was at 4500 feet, which was plenty for following the highway, but did not leave any margin should I stray too far from U. S. 95. Now I couldn't see the highway, so that worried me. At first I tried climbing to 6500 to see if I could get out of the mist, but that didn't work. I then recalled that I had been west of the highway, so I descended carefully back down to 4500 and turned east. A glance at the radial I was on from LAS and the DME seemed to confirm that I was indeed just west of the highway, although it was hard to evaluate this because I couldn't afford to take my eyes off the instruments and the outside view for very long.
After a minute or two of searching in all directions, I spotted lights on the highway, or on a highway—it was hard to tell if it was truly U. S. 95, but there weren't supposed to be any other major highways in the vicinity. I came in low over the highway and followed it, taking care to remain on the west side of the highway. Once I was stable along the highway, I did some double checking against my position with respect to the LAS VOR and also in relation to the Mercury NDB just north of Desert Rock. The results were encouraging: I seemed to be clear of restricted airspace and more or less where I should be with respect to my planned route.
The highway was barely visible below me, so I had to constantly watch it or risk losing it. Every time I looked at the charts and looked back out the window the highway had moved and was disappearing, and I'd have to search desperately for it left and right and then steer back towards it. Too far from the highway and I'd either meet the ground or I'd meet a couple of jet fighters. Gradually, though, I grew increasingly confident of my position, by looking at where I was in relation to LAS and Mercury, and by comparing the twists and turns of the highway to the chart.
I proceeded in this way all up the highway, until the twirling of my ADF told me that I was passing Mercury. By then I was able to receive the BTY VOR, and so I climbed to 6500 and picked the 120 radial from the VOR to keep me over the desert valley and clear of the dreaded R-4808.
Once I had BTY, things got a lot easier, since most of the rest of the flight referenced VORs. From BTY I flew to LIDAT, climbing to 8500, then direct TPH, taking care to make a slight detour to the west to avoid R-4807A. I was trying to avoid high mountains, too, to minimize the amount of oxygen my passengers and I would need. From TPH it was direct MVA, with a reluctant slow climb to 10,500 feet MSL. From MVA it was V584 all the way to CHIME, where I had originally planned to turn west onto V494 to sneak around the mountains. However, with clear air below me (and a cloud deck above) at 10,500, I could see Reno from CHIME, so I just decided to go right over the mountains.
Once I could see that I was clear of the mountains southeast of Reno, I spotted the valley to the south where I had originally planned to make my approach, and descended into the valley to make a right base for 34R. There was a ton of turbulence on the way down (not to mention a bit before that on the way in) and it made us a bit queasy, but I finally got us down in one piece, although some strong gusts just over the runway made it a bit wild in the last few seconds before touchdown.
So, nearly five hours after I took off, I taxied over to a GA ramp at Reno and parked. We were all tired.
Of course, people who have never done serious flight simulation will dismiss this flight as just a game. It doesn't feel that way if you take it seriously, though. Even though you know in the back of your mind that you cannot be hurt in a simulation, it's still a shot of adrenalin to be stuck in solid IMC inadvertently when you had planned for VMC all the way. But it's good practice.
Valle - Flagstaff / Cessna 182RG II (N7167V) / VFR
A tiny flight from Valle to Flagstaff, uneventful except for winds gusting to 16 knots on landing, but I still got down okay.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Grand Canyon - Valle / Cessna 182RG II (N7167V) / VFR
Just a tiny shuttle from Grand Canyon to Valle, a small airport about eighteen miles to the south. I filled up the tanks after arriving at Valle.
I'm trying to figure out a nice flight plan near the Grand Canyon. Unfortunately, the Grand Canyon contains a Special Flight Rules Area with all sorts of restrictions applied to it, which was put in place after the nuisance of constant helicopter and fixed-wing overflights of the canyon at low altitude became intolerable. Today, you can only overfly the canyon in certain ways at certain altitudes—zipping down below the rim for a thrill ride right above the Colorado is no longer an option. Even companies that make provide tours of the canyon as their business are subject to heavy restrictions.
For my small Cessnas, the options are limited. You can overfly any point in the canyon as long as you're above 14,500 feet MSL, but that's mighty high for a Cessna 182, and it would require that both I and my passengers strap on supplemental oxygen, which takes the fun out of things a bit. 'Course, even the rim of the canyon is already above 5000 feet MSL (KGCN is just above 6600 feet), so I usually have the oxygen handy at least for me, but imposing it on passengers doesn't go over that well.
Another option is to fly through one of the special corridors set up across the canyon. Even those require you to be at least at 10,500 feet, though, so oxygen is still a factor. Some sectors of the canyon let you fly as low as 9000 feet, but then you're quite a distance from the canyon itself in many cases. No matter how you look at it, you have to fly high to get across the canyon. So I'm debating whether to actually fly across it, or just fly around it. I guess that depends on where my passengers would like to go next. We've been to Sedona and Prescott, but not Flagstaff. Maybe we can take a ride down there. We'll see.
I'm trying to figure out a nice flight plan near the Grand Canyon. Unfortunately, the Grand Canyon contains a Special Flight Rules Area with all sorts of restrictions applied to it, which was put in place after the nuisance of constant helicopter and fixed-wing overflights of the canyon at low altitude became intolerable. Today, you can only overfly the canyon in certain ways at certain altitudes—zipping down below the rim for a thrill ride right above the Colorado is no longer an option. Even companies that make provide tours of the canyon as their business are subject to heavy restrictions.
For my small Cessnas, the options are limited. You can overfly any point in the canyon as long as you're above 14,500 feet MSL, but that's mighty high for a Cessna 182, and it would require that both I and my passengers strap on supplemental oxygen, which takes the fun out of things a bit. 'Course, even the rim of the canyon is already above 5000 feet MSL (KGCN is just above 6600 feet), so I usually have the oxygen handy at least for me, but imposing it on passengers doesn't go over that well.
Another option is to fly through one of the special corridors set up across the canyon. Even those require you to be at least at 10,500 feet, though, so oxygen is still a factor. Some sectors of the canyon let you fly as low as 9000 feet, but then you're quite a distance from the canyon itself in many cases. No matter how you look at it, you have to fly high to get across the canyon. So I'm debating whether to actually fly across it, or just fly around it. I guess that depends on where my passengers would like to go next. We've been to Sedona and Prescott, but not Flagstaff. Maybe we can take a ride down there. We'll see.