I woke up a little after 7:30 this morning, hit snooze a couple times, and finally rolled out of bed a little before 8. Looking outside, I saw nothing but gray. Literally. The fog was so thick that I couldn’t distinguish a wall a hundred feet from my window.
Despite the low visibility, I biked over to the Mechanical Engineering building around 9, photocopied a few checklists, and picked up a friend’s car to drive to the airport. By this time (9:30-ish), the clouds had lifted in the east, but not in the west. I saw quite a sight after I arrived at Wisconsin Aviation: a sun brightly shining through the blue third of the sky, the rotating beacon on but washed out due to the intensity of solar light, and the control tower, a mile west on the other side of the airport, obscured.
I picked up the airframe and engine logs from the maintenance shop in order to prove to my examiner I had an airworthy aircraft, then headed out onto the ramp to check on the plane I was fly. Only problem was, it was not there! Apparently, it was flown to Watertown (about 25 miles east of Madison) yesterday, but the fog had kept it grounded overnight, and it wouldn’t return until noon. It was really nothing to worry about, as my exam did not begin until 11:30.
I made a few final checks of the weather, calculated the last bits of my cross-country flight plan to Fort Wayne, IN, and took a final browse through my checklists around 11. Those few minutes soon stretched into a half hour, and my examiner, Jim, soon walked into the lobby.
We went upstairs to a conference room to fill out my paperwork and start the oral exam. While the FAA written exam is utterly objective- sixty multiple choice questions, computer-scored, the oral exam is much less rigid. Mine, for instance, had a style somewhere between that of an interview and a friendly conversation. I answered questions about the airworthiness of my airplane, the weather conditions around Madison and along my flight path, about my cross-country planning techniques and interpretation of aeronautical charts, and about aircraft systems. Jim brought up quite a few insights I hadn’t even considered. For example, take a look at this piece of the Chicago sectional. Blackhawk Airfield (87Y) is about seven miles east of Dane County Regional Airport (MSN), and is home to a high volume of general aviation, especially training. Note also that it is very near a Class E surface area extension; that is, for the non-pilots, controlled airspace with its flight visibility requirements exists inside the dashed magenta box just to the east of the city of Madison. Blackhawk itself lies within Class G (uncontrolled) airspace, which extends to 700 feet above ground. Because of the loose weather standards in daytime uncontrolled airspace (1 mile visibility, clear of clouds) it is not uncommon for certain less-than-responsible pilots to try to conduct operations within this airspace, flying traffic patterns below a low overcast deck, perhaps no more than five hundred feet above the earth. The FAA loves to squash this idiocy, but is usually unable to do so. Unless, of course, these pilots happen to fly into the Class E airspace merely a thousand, maybe two, feet from the airport. Radar contact, ramp check, bust. There’s no easier way to remedial training.
Anyway, back to the task at hand… I did extremely well on the oral test, so we headed out to the ramp, I preflighted my plane- just a normal, by-the-checklist preflight, then strapped in and prepared to start. My preflight briefing consisted of asking my examiner if he had flown in this type of aircraft (Piper Archer) and if he was familiar with the seat belts and door operation. As he was, no further explanation was needed, and ran through the startup checklists, picked up ATIS and a VFR clearance through Madison airspace, and taxied out, ready to launch into the hazy sky.
Haze… yes, haze. A small temperature/dewpoint spread and light winds will do that. Six miles flight visibility doesn’t mean all that much when you are two thousand feet in the air… the horizon has a strange tendency to disappear. The cross country portion of the checkride went well; after departing Madison, I found my 122 degree course to the southeast, and flew as far as Cambridge (15 miles) before being diverted for the maneuvers performance checks. Steep turns were not spectacular; losing the horizon reference made it difficult to maintain a proper pitch, and as the beads of sweat of nervousness and a warm cockpit rolled down my face under the 1.5 G load, my altitude wavered a bit more than I would have liked. Stalls and slow flight were a bit better, as was my simulated instrument maneuvering wearing a pair of foggles. With outside sight restored, I conducted a simulated emergency descent and approach to an off-field landing. Once my approach was stable and I knew I could have made the landing, Jim applied full throttle, and I recovered into a climb.
Next up was a flight to Blackhawk. I found my bearings, noted my position on the sectional, and plotted a quick course to the airport. Unlike my practice flight on Tuesday in which I was practically on top of the field before I spotted it, today I had the airport in sight five miles out. I announced my position on CTAF, and circled to enter the downwind leg of the pattern on runway 27. Two landings I made here, and two times I could have done significantly better. The first time, I fought a turbulent crosswind with too little power, was lifted by a gust, and stalled several feet above the runway. While the landing did not injure the aircraft or myself, it was a bit rough, and I was capable of so much more. Jim sensed this, so we departed again, tracking perfectly the centerline, flew the pattern, and I set up another approach. The second time was better; my airspeed was stable, I controlled against the wind better, but I was a bit fast. My wheels barely touched, then rose a foot or two, then touched again. This was more acceptable, but Jim wanted to see the perfection he knew I was capable of.
Departing Blackhawk again, he asked me to call up Madison approach and tell them we were coming home. A short hop later, I was on final approach to runway 21, with a few thoughts going through my mind… I hadn’t demonstrated a short field or soft field takeoff, I had just made two less-than-perfect landings at Blackhawk, my altitude control had wavered in several maneuvers, and now Jim wanted to land and taxi back to the ramp. Was this the end of my checkride? Were my landings that bad? All along I had heard that altitude control was critical, and I know had exceeded the allowable tolerances a few times. I touched down on the centerline- not greasing the landing by any standards, but not bending metal, either, and taxied off the active. I pulled to a stop to run through my after-landing checklist. Transponder on standby, landing lights off, fuel boost pump off, mixture leaned to taxi. Jim turned to me and spoke.
“Welcome to aviation.”
An hour’s worth of anxiety, sweat, discouragement… all evaporated in those two seconds.
My logbook has been signed, my Temporary Airman Certificate has been issued, and I have been approved to rent C-152s, C-172s, PA-28-181s, and PA-28-161s. That’s a total of about ten rental aircraft… I shouldn’t have any trouble with scheduling he next time I want to “get high!”
Oh, one more thing: I beat you to the punch, Johnny L.A. and flyboy88… I joined AOPA (and their legal services plan) back in November of last year, after an almost-incident at Palwaukee, IL… but that’s a story for another day.
