Student meets first solo challenge
I had about 36 hours of flight instruction by Sunday, October 8. The day was perfectly clear, without so much as a cloud wisp in the sky. My instructor Michael Moran and I departed South Jersey Regional Airport at about 5 p.m. We practiced stall recovery and some steep turns, and then flew back to the airport, where I performed a touch and go and go-around. As the Hobbs meter was running up, I asked my instructor if I was going to solo today. He smiled and said yes. It was actually a relief; I'd been mentally preparing myself all day, and to have to wait another week would have been a letdown.
After one more turn around the pattern, we taxied off the runway. Moran told me to shut down and turn off the master switch. He made the necessary endorsements in my logbook and on my medical certificate, and said, "OK, do three take-offs and landings, full stops in between."
I expressed some surprise. "I thought I'd do touch-and-goes."
"No, better to do full stops," Moran said. "There's too much going on, and it gives you a breather in between."
I saw the wisdom of that, and gave Moran my digital camera as he exited the airplane. Then, at last, I was alone.
I started the airplane and taxied to Runway 8, which requires a back-taxi--and a rather significant one at that. A Cessna ahead of me on the taxiway announced his intentions and taxied onto the runway. After giving him a courteous amount of space, I made my first radio call.
"South Jersey traffic, Cessna right behind him on that back-taxi, South Jersey."
I did my run-up by the end of the runway, then remembered my instructor's words: lights, camera, action. I seemed to be remembering things more acutely now that I was alone. I checked to make sure the airplane's beacon was on and switched the transponder to ALT. Then came "action." I waited for the departing Cessna ahead of me to climb well above the airport before I made a radio call.
It was show time. I took a breath, and as I'd done many times before, pushed the throttle in, slowly but not too slowly. The Skyhawk--Four-Six-Foxtrot-Whiskey--advanced down the runway. At about 60 knots, I rotated and began my ascent. I thought, All right, Gary, now you have no choice but to land this thing. Failure isn't an option.
I maintained a precise 75 knots on the climbout. Never before had that happened. As I climbed, I took note of the sun getting ready to set behind me, and the tint it cast on the landscape ahead. It was a beautiful time to be flying. I also noticed how quiet it was. I actually looked to my right to view the empty space where my instructor usually sat. That reinforced my knowledge that it was all me now.
Interestingly, I wasn't nervous. I was a bit tense, but not in a bad way. I was just very focused.
It had been a matter of eight or nine lessons with Moran to get here, after 25 hours with another instructor. My landings were poor, and my prior instructor wasn't helping my confidence. When I first met Moran, he noted that my landing problems were very common, and promised I'd be nailing them in two lessons. Two lessons later I had my first "greased" landing, and they continued to improve thereafter.
So here I was, ascending above South Jersey Regional Airport, on my first of three spins around the block. As I turned crosswind, then downwind, I had to deal with the glare of the sinking sun, which at this point was a clearly outlined orange orb. The only sounds were the chatter from other pilots on the common traffic advisory frequency.
I turned base, then final, making radio calls at each turn. I'd pulled back power and turned carb heat on when I was abeam the runway number, and put in 10 degrees of flaps. Now it was just a matter of deploying another 20 degrees, and using the rudder to line myself up with the runway centerline.
An inconveniently located strand of power lines runs perpendicular to Runway 8, along a similarly oriented road. Not a big deal, just something to remind you to watch your power and glidepath. Using the airport's VASI lights, I came in on a precise path for touchdown. My instructor's advice stayed with me: pull the power when you're assured of making the runway. Clear of the power lines, I did just that. Above the numbers, I held the airplane level as I focused on the far end of the runway. At the beginning of the sink, I flared the airplane and touched down smoothly, then began braking.
Upon exiting the runway, I began taxiing back to the ramp, at which point Moran ran over to the airplane. "Are you done?" he asked.
"No," I replied. "Why?" In my cloud of concentration, I failed to turn immediately back onto the taxiway, figuring I'd turn around in the parking area. Upon realizing my error, I swung the airplane 180 degrees and taxied back to the runway.
It was then that things got interesting. As before, I was second in line on the taxi behind another Cessna. He was paused at the dashed runway hold-short line as we both heard a pilot with a French accent call his downwind turn. After a short while, the Cessna ahead of me announced his intentions and began back-taxiing to the end of the runway.
As I waited once again to give some separation between my airplane and the other Cessna, the French pilot again called his downwind turn. Odd, I thought, that he made the same call twice. I then made my radio call and took the runway for that 1,100-foot back-taxi--almost a third of the 3,900-foot strip.
I'd been on the runway no more than 20 seconds when the French pilot inexplicably called his turn to final for Runway 8. Had I missed something? He never called base. I suddenly realized he called downwind a second time when he meant to say base, and my stomach leaped into my throat. I keyed the radio.
"Cessna in the pattern at South Jersey, I'm back-taxiing on Runway 8. You called your downwind turn twice."
I received no response, and began to panic.
I repeated my radio call, with some more stress in my voice. "Cessna in the pattern, I'm on the active Runway 8. You called downwind twice." I could only imagine what the pilot ahead of me, safely in the run-up area, and my instructor, supposedly monitoring the CTAF on a handheld radio, were thinking.
Again, there was no acknowledgment. If the French pilot was doing anything to slow his approach, he was keeping it a secret from me. I could see his landing light, no more than a half-mile from my position.
I pushed the throttle forward, up to about 1,700 rpm, in my effort to get off the runway. Never had that back-taxi seemed so long. As it was, the brakes squealed in protest as I made the left turn into the run-up area. Now clear of the runway, I positioned the plane with a view to oncoming traffic. The French pilot crossed the threshold about 20 or 30 seconds later.
As that pilot cleared the runway, and the Cessna in front of me took off, I took some deep breaths and tried to collect myself. I had two more trips to make in order to complete my first solo and needed to focus.
As it turned out, they were both uneventful, other than the fact that I made two more smooth landings--perhaps my best ones yet. After the final touchdown, I taxied back to the hangar, where the flight school director used hand signals to guide me to a stop. I shut down the engine and stepped out of the plane, bellowing a guttural "Yeah!" as I punched the air. My instructor was there to greet me.
I explained what happened with the French pilot. I inquired whether it was a runway incursion. Moran explained that it probably wasn't, since it's a nontowered field and I had announced my intentions. In any case, he said, I exercised good judgment and composure in a difficult situation.
My first solo was amazing. It was also yet another learning experience in what's sure to be a long line of them.
"Learning Experiences" is presented to enhance safety by providing a forum for students and pilots to learn from the experiences of others. It is intended to provoke thought and discussion, acknowledging that actions taken by the authors were not necessarily the best choices under the circumstances. We encourage you to discuss any questions you have about a particular scenario with your flight instructor.
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