 |
| Yes, I put the headset on the table just for the picture. |
Last year I made a rather expensive mistake when I
completely failed to make sure a flight to Redlands properly qualified for my commercial
cross-country requirement. However, apart from an important lesson in
double-checking stuff, I gained one a notable fringe benefit: the chance for
another long flight. (And the chance to spend a lot of money again…)
You see, airplanes are made for going places, and sometimes
it’s easy to forget that when all you do is go out and fly an endless round of
traffic patterns. There’s just nothing like climbing in a light aircraft and going
somewhere new, even if it’s just to turn around and come right back. It
certainly beats driving.
 |
| Avoid the hairy-looking blue lines and you won't get shot at. |
I was looking forward to getting to go cross-country again. Since
I was eager to get on a fast-track to finishing my certificate, I planned a
one-day marathon flight in the Arrow. No relaxing dinner at the airport
restaurant or staying overnight with friends; it would be down to Southern California and back, all in 6 hours. Really all
I would have time for anyway, between Biochemistry class periods.
I chose Lompoc
as my destination, checked and double-checked the mileage, filed my VFR flight
plan, and headed out to the ‘drome to get airborne. I had some goodies along
with me in my flight bag. Last year I test-flew a top-of-the-line
noise-canceling headset. This year I had a set I could call my own, and I knew
the investment would definitely be paying dividends on this flight. To go along
with headset, I had also downloaded the complete collection of Mozart Piano
Concertos on MP3 to listen to on the way—I was especially looking forward to
this!
 |
| Who's that on the wing?! |
I was wheels up at 1640 and began winging my way southward.
With the piano and orchestra playing softly in the background I watched the
fields and farmlands of the Sacramento and Central valley pass by, followed by the funny sand
dune-like hills on the western side. Then it was over the coastal range, a
glance at Paso Robles where I would be stopping for fuel on the way back, and
on down the shoreline. The sun was shining through the cockpit almost the whole
way down, but I hoped enduring the late-afternoon lighting would pay off with a
beautiful sunset.
 |
| See the runway out there? Yeah, that's what I thought. |
Approaching Lompoc,
I skirted around Vandenburg Air Force Base’s airspace and then began the
somewhat tricky task of finding my airport. Picking out airports can be
challenging, especially when you haven’t been there before. To top things off,
the sun was now right in my face and turning the coastal haze in the air a
brilliant yellow. I’m thankful for GPS, even though there are still other
reliable ways for finding airports (over-flying the area at altitude is one way
that makes it a lot easier to spot).
Pointing the plane toward where the field was supposed to
be, I made my radio call and then managed to glimpse the runway up ahead.
Judging by the silent radio, the airspace was deserted. Of course, who would
want to be flying traffic patterns at this time of day with the sun blinding
you on final? Only one pilot, I suppose.
The runway loomed in front on me. Landing gear down, full
flaps, power back, start flaring and—oops! Thadunk!! (sorry, I’m terrible at
coming up with verbal sound effects) Quick, add some throttle before it drops
back down again. I hadn’t judged my height right and I had contacted the runway
in a less than graceful fashion, resulting in a bounce back into the air. I
quickly corrected and the plane settled back to the ground firmly as I muttered
about the lovely lighting.
 |
| Gorgeous. This was worth waiting for. |
It was 1847 – 2 hours and 7 minutes and 279 nautical miles
from Auburn.
Try doing that in your Honda Accord! I smoothed my ruffled feathers, taxied
back to the end of the runway, and took off into the sun to start heading back.
Paso Robles was the next stop where I planned to gas up before beginning the
night portion of my flight. On the way I was finally rewarded with the sunset I
had been hoping for. That’s another experience that is even better when seen
from the air.
Arriving at Paso Robles, I decided to take the runway with
the strongest crosswind, to get some practice and also to make up for the first
botched landing. It was quite fun, flying slightly sideways down final approach
and then straightening out, putting the wing down and landing on one wheel
first before setting down the other wheels. I felt I had redeemed myself.
 |
| Got gas? |
After an hour on the ground fueling the plane, talking to a
classmate on the phone about next morning’s Biochemistry quiz (“You’re where?
Isn’t that like Central California…?”), and
tidying up the cockpit, I headed out into the inky darkness for the final
objective. The FARs say that a commercial
pilot needs to have at least 10 night-time takeoffs and landings at a towered
airport. So the last stop of the flight would be Sacramento International for
some night-time pattern work!
 |
| Coming up on Elk Grove, with Sacramento beyond. |
It’s always fun telling people that I can fly into places
like SMF. Actually, “International”, as local pilots call it, is pretty
friendly to small planes. The tower controller was very accommodating when I
arrived and told him what I wanted to do. He set me up for runway 16L and then
directed me to extend my pattern legs as necessary as the evening onslaught of
airliners began arriving. It’s a pretty cool feeling to be right in there with
the Big Boys, following Southwest and United Airlines Boeings down final
approach!
Finally, I touched down for the tenth time and then powered
away back to Auburn.
“Thanks for stopping by,” the tower controller offered in farewell before
handing me off to NorCal. Thirteen minutes later I was setting down gently at
my home field.
 |
| There's something enchanting about airports at night. |
The airport was quiet and still as I slowly taxied off the
runway and to the parking ramp. I admired the pretty blue taxiway lights and
the wind sock and wind tee that looked like lit-up Christmas ornaments. As I
flicked off the master switches and pulled the mixture, I expected to hear
silence as the noisy engine stopped turning. Instead, in the quiet cockpit the
strains of the orchestra and piano immersed me. They were playing the last few
lines of the Andante movement from Mozart’s 22nd Piano Concerto. It
was indescribable. Melancholic, yet so beautiful, and just…perfect. And then it
was over.
