Powered Up for Power-Off's

Pick a runway stripe. Now land on it.

Just over 15 hours in my logbook now, flying the Arrow (or "Juliet", as Gretchen, the new receptionist, likes to call the plane, owing to it's tail number N7690J). Today was one of those better days flying, where you walk away from the flight with a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction, knowing you made progress and you're moving forward. Not that there really are any bad days flying - some are just especially rewarding.

Last time I went up a couple weeks ago with my instructor Beau, he introduced me to the power-off 180 accuracy approach, which involves gliding the plane to a spot landing without the help of the throttle. My commercial training has been following the typical pattern of riding with Beau for a flight to get introduced to a maneuver, followed by a couple solo flights where I go out and practice what he showed me.

Contrary to my somewhat larger-than-life reputation for smooth flying, power-off 180's did not go so smooth the first couple times Beau had me try them. Everything happens so quickly and I just had my hands full getting the plane to the runway. Putting the thing on a specific runway stripe seemed next to impossible because invariably the plane would either be much to high and sailing right past, or hundreds of feet too early with no altitude or airspeed left. After I did several attempts, Beau hopped out on the taxiway and told me to go up and practice Lazy Eight's and Chandelles by myself, but to wait for now on power-off 180's.

Yesterday I got back in the plane for some solo practice, after my nearly 2-week hiatus from flying (due to the broken beacon and travel), and one of the things I worked on was... you guessed it, the power-off 180. No, I didn't disobey my instructor - I just took the maneuver to a safer environment, namely the Lincoln airport, with it's 6,000 foot runway and flat terrain. Flying pattern after pattern, chopping the power abeam the aiming point and trying to land closer to it each time, really helped me start to get a feel of where the plane was headed during the approach. By the time I was done, I felt a lot better prepared to revisit the maneuver with Beau.

My to-do list that I keep in my pocket, soaked in sweat.

So up we went today, to beat up the traffic pattern. It was sweltering, but as Beau remarked, there is an upside to that - the pattern was virtually empty since no one wants to fly in that heat. My first approach was not too shabby. I landed too short of the stripe, but the approach itself was very controlled and stable. The next time around, with Beau's last-minute coaching, I nailed the edge of the aiming point zone. A couple more approaches and Beau felt comfortable letting me do the maneuver by myself in the Auburn traffic pattern.

"Alright, I'll get off and you can go up and play. Just be safe," he said, stepping out of the cabin after we pulled onto the taxiway. So off I went, and boy was it fun. Reaching pattern altitude, I got ready for the first power-off 180: Gear down, run the GUMPS check (Gas, Undercarriage, Mixture, Prop, Seatbelts), chop the power, and start heading for the runway.

Once that throttle comes back, that's the last it's moving.

As soon as the throttle comes to idle, the plane starts dropping quickly. To make sure you make it to the runway, you have to immediately begin one continuous turn in that direction. From this point to touchdown, it's all about plugging in flaps at the right time, stretching the glide by pulling back the prop control, or slipping to come down quicker.

Quickly I realized I was coming in low, so I pulled back the prop control and felt the plane ease forward. That did the trick, and more than I needed, so forward went the prop control and now it was time to add the flaps. I continued my bank to line up with the runway, rolling wings level just about a hundred off the ground. The stripe I was aiming for loomed in the windshield - and then started passing underneath the plane. I was now flying in ground effect, the mysterious zone of air just above the runway where an airplane glides a lot more efficiently, and I knew the plane just wasn't going to touch down for another couple hundred feet. So I pulled out one last trick.

With the plane floating down the runway, 3 or 4 feet off the ground, I grabbed the flap handle and began smoothly lowering it to the cabin floor. It worked like magic. As the flaps retracted, the wings lost their extra lift, and the plane settled firmly to the runway - right on the mark. A big grin worked itself across my face. That felt really good.

As I opened the cabin door back at the parking ramp after several more landings, a cool breeze hit my face. Next to a great landing, that's the second best feeling in the world.