Monday, with the battery freshly charged, I went to go fly. After all, if the problem is a slow leak to ground, then as long as the battery is charged enough to start, and the alternator is providing juice back into the system, the plane will fly fine - I just won't take her anywhere that shutting down for a while might lead to a problem.
That was the theory, anyway. The reality was that I pulled the starter, and I got the prop to turn over a little with an interesting grinding noise, before it stopped. This is not the battery - there's still plenty of juice in it. It's not a leak to ground, because that wouldn't keep the starter from going. I was wrong.
It's the starter. That horrid grinding sound before the prop stopped? Yeah, that's the gears not meshing. Thankfully, I didn't try long (about as long as it took to go Oh No That's Not Right). So today, tearing down the starter, and finding the problem starting from the engine back, while making sure the gears didn't leave any metal loose in the engine as they failed to mesh.
If it's the starter, which it likely is, I'm going to pull the engine, have the local engine shop modify it slightly to upgrade from 1941 technology to 1980's technology with a new Sky-Tec starter. They're smaller, much lighter, and far more reliable - so I won't have to deal with this again for many, many years.
And here's the part where I know God has an interesting sense of humor - modifying the engine, buying and installing the new starter, and reinstalling the engine on the airplane will cost... just a little more than the amount a friend just paid for my old radio, VOR head, and associated wiring. It'll be okay.
If you'll excuse me, I'll be out in the warm sunshine, working on my airplane, laughing about life and reminding myself that this happened before I was in the middle of nowhere over the Rockies, no one's shooting at me, and my husband loves me. All else can be handled easily.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Dead battery
Hopped in the airplane yesterday - well, climbed in after cleaning the windscreen, stop-drilling a crack in the cowl, applying NO STEP placards to the struts as a gentle reminder to any non-pilot passengers to come, checking the fuse seating, fueling, and zip-tying a loose bundle of wires back in place.
The battery had enough juice to try to crank, but after three blades, it ran out of power before the engine could catch. I didn't leave any switches on after the last flight. The ammeter has shown charging after every start-up, which means the newly rebuilt alternator is likely fine - the new battery should be good - so that leaves a leak to ground somewhere in the system.
I am not fond of electrical problems. V=ir , and after that it gets fuzzy. Well, I guess I get to learn now!
All full of frustration, unhappiness, rage at another setback, and despair, I had reached the point of laughing helplessly (rather than screaming) when I called my husband to let him know I'm just arbitrarily pushing the leave date back another two days, because I've never found electrical problems simple or easy to fix yet. My Calmer Half listened, then reminded me that he views this the same way I do - better now at the shop than in the dark, in the rain, with ten million moosquitos and no services. He calmly and firmly told me that he loves me, that I'm doing fine, that he looks forward to me coming home, but places no hurry-up on me getting there.
I adore that man beyond words. I know I'm highly strung; it's part of who I am - but he is so calming, so stable, so unstinting with his love and good humour, that he could make the worst day better. And, he's right, no one's shooting at me, so it's all a good day.
Funnily enough, my CFI is of a very similar mind - a few days ago, when contemplating a fuel tank that wasn't draining, he shrugged, and smiled broadly with nothing but genuine good humour. "It's not raining, it's warm, and there are no incoming mortars. Cheer up - it's a good day!"
It will be a good day. It is a good day. Instead of flying, I'll charge the battery today, and go on a motorcycle ride with a friend. The sun's out, no one's shooting at me, I have friends here who give me a nice bed to sleep in and a car to use, I'm in good health, and I'm going to go play!
The battery had enough juice to try to crank, but after three blades, it ran out of power before the engine could catch. I didn't leave any switches on after the last flight. The ammeter has shown charging after every start-up, which means the newly rebuilt alternator is likely fine - the new battery should be good - so that leaves a leak to ground somewhere in the system.
I am not fond of electrical problems. V=ir , and after that it gets fuzzy. Well, I guess I get to learn now!
All full of frustration, unhappiness, rage at another setback, and despair, I had reached the point of laughing helplessly (rather than screaming) when I called my husband to let him know I'm just arbitrarily pushing the leave date back another two days, because I've never found electrical problems simple or easy to fix yet. My Calmer Half listened, then reminded me that he views this the same way I do - better now at the shop than in the dark, in the rain, with ten million moosquitos and no services. He calmly and firmly told me that he loves me, that I'm doing fine, that he looks forward to me coming home, but places no hurry-up on me getting there.
I adore that man beyond words. I know I'm highly strung; it's part of who I am - but he is so calming, so stable, so unstinting with his love and good humour, that he could make the worst day better. And, he's right, no one's shooting at me, so it's all a good day.
Funnily enough, my CFI is of a very similar mind - a few days ago, when contemplating a fuel tank that wasn't draining, he shrugged, and smiled broadly with nothing but genuine good humour. "It's not raining, it's warm, and there are no incoming mortars. Cheer up - it's a good day!"
It will be a good day. It is a good day. Instead of flying, I'll charge the battery today, and go on a motorcycle ride with a friend. The sun's out, no one's shooting at me, I have friends here who give me a nice bed to sleep in and a car to use, I'm in good health, and I'm going to go play!
Day is done
One of the first sights I remember is green grass under my feet, and a folding chair whose seat was roughly at my eye height. One of the first sounds I remember is the bugle, echoing through the graveyard, and the crack of the guns.
One of the standard beginner tunes for the trumpet is Taps, because it's all open C's, and teaches breathing and lip control to vary the notes. As soon as I played it, I knew I'd heard it before, knew that I should know this song, and that it wasn't quite right. My father would leave the house to not have to listen to me practice - and it drove me, haunted me, because I knew this song somehow to my bones, but didn't quite remember why.
Later, I learned all too well why I never could make it sound right on my trumpet, and why my father would leave the house, as the bugle and its echo came across another graveyard. I watched a folded flag be pressed gently into hands that had poured years of life into a son, only to have it poured out in defense of our land. Later, I'd learn the cost we pay in flesh and blood, in hopes and dreams, in fathers, daughters, sons, mothers, brothers, sisters, and friends.
To everyone who is serving and everyone who has served, you have my deep and grateful thanks.
One of the standard beginner tunes for the trumpet is Taps, because it's all open C's, and teaches breathing and lip control to vary the notes. As soon as I played it, I knew I'd heard it before, knew that I should know this song, and that it wasn't quite right. My father would leave the house to not have to listen to me practice - and it drove me, haunted me, because I knew this song somehow to my bones, but didn't quite remember why.
Later, I learned all too well why I never could make it sound right on my trumpet, and why my father would leave the house, as the bugle and its echo came across another graveyard. I watched a folded flag be pressed gently into hands that had poured years of life into a son, only to have it poured out in defense of our land. Later, I'd learn the cost we pay in flesh and blood, in hopes and dreams, in fathers, daughters, sons, mothers, brothers, sisters, and friends.
To everyone who is serving and everyone who has served, you have my deep and grateful thanks.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Signed off
Today we did wheel landings at Palmer, which is a pretty reliable airport for crosswind. The wind was amusingly light, given we'd come just for that - but the windsock at the head of 16 didn't agree with the windsock at the tail end of 16. Combined with the bluff on downwind to base that fools a pilot into coming in high, and the inevitable burbles over the river and the treeline, it was a good thing that I had 6000 feet of runway available. Not that I used it all, but that I didn't feel much pressure or panic to either monkey with my landings or go around. So we worked on wheel landings, and when a wheel landing has gone too far wrong to be pulled off - but can still be converted into a 3-point landing.
In the middle of this practice, we stopped in at the FSS, and met the guy on duty. (They have flush toilets instead of running into the woods! The utter plush civilization of it all!) We tsill have local FAA employees at the Flight Service Stations in Alaska, and unlike the outsourced version in the lower 48, no matter what the patchy automated weather information may indicate, you can take the FSS briefer's weather predictions to the bank.
After we got back, my CFI signed my logbook with all due endorsements as safe to take off and fly this thing alone, anywhere and everywhere I want. I still scheduled another lesson with him, tomorrow at 1300, to polish the last few rough edges - I'm not happy with my wheel landings yet, and want a little more crosswind practice.
No pictures today - busy flying. Maybe tomorrow?
So I celebrated by scarfing down the last of the blueberries and yesterday's donuts, like any good airport scavenger, and then pitching in on power-washing the ramp. I've wanted to do that since the first time I knelt in the accumulated dirt and sand blown in from around the city - I may not be able to pull-start the motor, but I can run the hose for a while.
One of my favorite gunnies in the whole wide world stopped by, freshly retired and with the few day's worth of beard growth and ear-to-ear grin to prove it. Our planes were long-term projects together. It's awesome for us both to see each other's birds as finally flying, and congratulate each other. My big old brick of a radio, which I uninstalled months ago, will now find a new and happy home being used in his plane, making everyone happy in the deal. Yay!
In the middle of this practice, we stopped in at the FSS, and met the guy on duty. (They have flush toilets instead of running into the woods! The utter plush civilization of it all!) We tsill have local FAA employees at the Flight Service Stations in Alaska, and unlike the outsourced version in the lower 48, no matter what the patchy automated weather information may indicate, you can take the FSS briefer's weather predictions to the bank.
After we got back, my CFI signed my logbook with all due endorsements as safe to take off and fly this thing alone, anywhere and everywhere I want. I still scheduled another lesson with him, tomorrow at 1300, to polish the last few rough edges - I'm not happy with my wheel landings yet, and want a little more crosswind practice.
No pictures today - busy flying. Maybe tomorrow?
So I celebrated by scarfing down the last of the blueberries and yesterday's donuts, like any good airport scavenger, and then pitching in on power-washing the ramp. I've wanted to do that since the first time I knelt in the accumulated dirt and sand blown in from around the city - I may not be able to pull-start the motor, but I can run the hose for a while.
One of my favorite gunnies in the whole wide world stopped by, freshly retired and with the few day's worth of beard growth and ear-to-ear grin to prove it. Our planes were long-term projects together. It's awesome for us both to see each other's birds as finally flying, and congratulate each other. My big old brick of a radio, which I uninstalled months ago, will now find a new and happy home being used in his plane, making everyone happy in the deal. Yay!
Back in the Air
Sorted out the paperwork and finished some maintenance today, and got back up in the air. Went to Goose Bay, and worked on wheel landings. Note: I was not flying the plane at the time this picture was taken; I had the CFI set up and do a wheel landing first, so I could see the right sight picture to reference when I made my own landings.
There were a couple go-arounds; I default to going around after two bad bounces, and am also learning to feel the difference between skipping off the surface of an uneven gravel runway and an actual uncontrolled bounce from too little power or wrong control movement.
In general, life was good. I don't expect to get happy with my wheel landings in the next few hours, but I do expect to get functional and safe - finesse will come with practice.
In the meantime, for everyone who's ever whiled time away reading bumper stickers in traffic, here's yet more evidence that airplanes are viewed as trucks up here - meet one half of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang's cowl.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Stretching my wings
I had hoped and planned to go to a fly-in last weekend, but the test pilot's schedule filled up, the plane needed to go down for maintenance to tweak her rigging, and I didn't have enough time to feel comfortable and safe solo. So with heavy heart, I sent word that I wouldn't make it.
Then I found the new CFI, who had Sunday afternoon not only free, but free in a "my wife wants me out from underfoot" way that held no time constraints. So, he showed up as I was fueling the plane, and we went over the pre-arranged plan, the route, and the weight and balance with me. Off we went into the wild blue yonder...
It was great fun, with reindeer and moose sausages, potato chips, soda, and one awesome woman brought cookies and cupcakes. We even had the madatory kid and/or dog underfoot, in this case an eldery Chow who was pretty laid-back about the whole thing.
While the main goal of the flour bombing competition was to hit the tarp laid out on the gravel at the center of the run-up area before the runway proper, while the group gathered by a runway threshold panel with a drink cooler, the main rules we agreed on were
1.) Hit the surface of the earth.
2.) Don't hit the dog.
3.) Maintain at or above 150 AGL while dropping the flour bomb.
Note: this one was NOT mine.
We didn't win, (there are some guys who are really good at dropping things where they want it), and if my takeoff could have inspired a good round of ribbing for putting in more aileron than needed for the calm wind below the treeline, well, the good folks were kind enough to give me a pass. The long flight home was faster than we'd planned, as we picked up a tailwind, and we were having too much fun to be bored. A few rain showers impeded visibility - it may only have been 80 miles.
The airplane's down for a few days with paperwork, and mechanical problems - tweaking rigging, checking a rocker box cover that decided to leak oil, patching a few spots on the tailfeathers that may be old damage, or may be fresh damage from the gravel runways, converting temporary placards to permanent, and so on. It's been a good shake down.
Then I found the new CFI, who had Sunday afternoon not only free, but free in a "my wife wants me out from underfoot" way that held no time constraints. So, he showed up as I was fueling the plane, and we went over the pre-arranged plan, the route, and the weight and balance with me. Off we went into the wild blue yonder...
It was great fun, with reindeer and moose sausages, potato chips, soda, and one awesome woman brought cookies and cupcakes. We even had the madatory kid and/or dog underfoot, in this case an eldery Chow who was pretty laid-back about the whole thing.
While the main goal of the flour bombing competition was to hit the tarp laid out on the gravel at the center of the run-up area before the runway proper, while the group gathered by a runway threshold panel with a drink cooler, the main rules we agreed on were
1.) Hit the surface of the earth.
2.) Don't hit the dog.
3.) Maintain at or above 150 AGL while dropping the flour bomb.
Note: this one was NOT mine.
We didn't win, (there are some guys who are really good at dropping things where they want it), and if my takeoff could have inspired a good round of ribbing for putting in more aileron than needed for the calm wind below the treeline, well, the good folks were kind enough to give me a pass. The long flight home was faster than we'd planned, as we picked up a tailwind, and we were having too much fun to be bored. A few rain showers impeded visibility - it may only have been 80 miles.
The airplane's down for a few days with paperwork, and mechanical problems - tweaking rigging, checking a rocker box cover that decided to leak oil, patching a few spots on the tailfeathers that may be old damage, or may be fresh damage from the gravel runways, converting temporary placards to permanent, and so on. It's been a good shake down.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Talk to me?
Went flying today in my own plane. Still need to work on adjusting the wash-out on the right wing and adjusting the brakes, but today I finally got the sight picture... mostly. Unfortunately, as we were on downwind at Lake Hood Strip, the radio (which we were having a little trouble with already, but I thought that was just me), decided to start giving all static and no transmission, then nothing at all.
What do you do when you can't talk to tower? First, you fly the airplane! Of all the things to fail on your airplane, the radio is the best, because you still have altitude, speed, and time. Don't panic just because you can't talk.
Second, stay predictable. If you were in a pattern, or headed somehwere, keep going. People who know where you were and what you were doing will know where you ought to be based on last report, and therefore try to avoid you based on what they expect you to do. So, we stayed on downwind, turned base, then turned final while trying to sort out the radio problem. However, if in the pattern at a towered airport, DO NOT LAND WITHOUT PERMISSION. Tower hadn't cleared us for landing or the option before the radio failed, so the intended wheel landing became a low pass, while the instructor checked the push to talk to see if the button was stuck.
Third, just because the radio failed doesn't mean we have to land immediately. We were at Lake Hood Strip, and the plane is based at Merrill. The instructor's truck was at Merrill. There's a radio shop within easy ambling distance of the tiedown - the best place to get the problem checked out and fixed. So we didn't seek permission to land - after the low pass, I climbed out. As we did, the CFI continued to work the problem. He changed frequency to ground, but couldn't raise them, or hear them. So we climbed above traffic pattern altitude, and headed for Merrill.
Now, while I do not encourage the use of cell phones in the air on a general principle - among other things, the FCC frowns on it, and more importantly, there is never a good time to be flying distracted, when the fecal material hits the rotating device, the pilot should use every available means of making the flight end safely. So as I climbed out, it would have been a great time for pilot not flying to get out the cell phone, if he had merrill tower's number, and call them. However, about the time we got the radio on an alternate power souce and verified it wasn't dead battery, the lower right panel of one of the tower's big windows lit up like a green LED flashlight pointed at you by a friend across the room. The controllers were on the ball, and on the light gun. Steady green means cleared to enter the pattern, and that was a warm and welcoming light.
We aggressively rocked the wings, flashing those big signal panels that the message was received and understood, and entered the pattern. On downwind, while I was still trying to trim this plane up and get her straight and level, my CFI was the first to spot a plane orbiting a nearby hospital, staying out of the pattern and waiting for us to land. As I turned base, I spotted another off my wing strut, casually circling the Muldoon overpass. And on final, we kept an eye on that tower, waiting. Would it be the red of wave-off, the flashing green of go around but keep trying, or the steady green of cleared to land?
Like a lit window of a friend's house after a long winter drive, the bright green light welcomed us home, and we rocked our wings like we'd spotted a friend waiting by baggage claim after a long flight. We landed carefully, gently, and pulled off the runway as we slowed down. Once the engine was back to idle, the instructor pulled out his cell phone, called tower, requested taxi clearance, and thanked them sincerely for their help.
Tomorrow: round three, with adjusted brakes, new radio, and a much better feel for the sight picture. I love my plane, and I'll learn to fly her well yet!
What do you do when you can't talk to tower? First, you fly the airplane! Of all the things to fail on your airplane, the radio is the best, because you still have altitude, speed, and time. Don't panic just because you can't talk.
Second, stay predictable. If you were in a pattern, or headed somehwere, keep going. People who know where you were and what you were doing will know where you ought to be based on last report, and therefore try to avoid you based on what they expect you to do. So, we stayed on downwind, turned base, then turned final while trying to sort out the radio problem. However, if in the pattern at a towered airport, DO NOT LAND WITHOUT PERMISSION. Tower hadn't cleared us for landing or the option before the radio failed, so the intended wheel landing became a low pass, while the instructor checked the push to talk to see if the button was stuck.
Third, just because the radio failed doesn't mean we have to land immediately. We were at Lake Hood Strip, and the plane is based at Merrill. The instructor's truck was at Merrill. There's a radio shop within easy ambling distance of the tiedown - the best place to get the problem checked out and fixed. So we didn't seek permission to land - after the low pass, I climbed out. As we did, the CFI continued to work the problem. He changed frequency to ground, but couldn't raise them, or hear them. So we climbed above traffic pattern altitude, and headed for Merrill.
Now, while I do not encourage the use of cell phones in the air on a general principle - among other things, the FCC frowns on it, and more importantly, there is never a good time to be flying distracted, when the fecal material hits the rotating device, the pilot should use every available means of making the flight end safely. So as I climbed out, it would have been a great time for pilot not flying to get out the cell phone, if he had merrill tower's number, and call them. However, about the time we got the radio on an alternate power souce and verified it wasn't dead battery, the lower right panel of one of the tower's big windows lit up like a green LED flashlight pointed at you by a friend across the room. The controllers were on the ball, and on the light gun. Steady green means cleared to enter the pattern, and that was a warm and welcoming light.
We aggressively rocked the wings, flashing those big signal panels that the message was received and understood, and entered the pattern. On downwind, while I was still trying to trim this plane up and get her straight and level, my CFI was the first to spot a plane orbiting a nearby hospital, staying out of the pattern and waiting for us to land. As I turned base, I spotted another off my wing strut, casually circling the Muldoon overpass. And on final, we kept an eye on that tower, waiting. Would it be the red of wave-off, the flashing green of go around but keep trying, or the steady green of cleared to land?
Like a lit window of a friend's house after a long winter drive, the bright green light welcomed us home, and we rocked our wings like we'd spotted a friend waiting by baggage claim after a long flight. We landed carefully, gently, and pulled off the runway as we slowed down. Once the engine was back to idle, the instructor pulled out his cell phone, called tower, requested taxi clearance, and thanked them sincerely for their help.
Tomorrow: round three, with adjusted brakes, new radio, and a much better feel for the sight picture. I love my plane, and I'll learn to fly her well yet!
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