Hurry Up and Wait

Well, I'm getting a good introduction to life in the aviation industry. This is four or five days in a row of cancelled flights. I feel like I'm just sitting here wasting time but there's nothing I can do about it. Two delays a pilot can't help are weather and mechanical delays. And I've had both this week. So I'm just sitting here watching the clouds build up and darken the sky. Rain and clouds are okay -- even good when you're working on your instrument rating -- but thunderstorms are not good. Lightning is always associated with thunderstorms, hence the name. And lightning is not a good environment for flight. So, I'll wait.

My instrument checkride has been scheduled for September 12. Although I feel like I'll be ready, I know it'll still be tough as nails. The gentleman who is doing it for me lives in Auburn, AL so I'll fly down there for it. It starts with the oral exam. Anything in the book is fair game. It could last anywhere from an hour up to three (at least those are some of the horror stories I've heard). And if that goes well, we'll hop in the plane and go for a ride. He'll be looking for a demonstration of my proficiency in instrument flight -- my ability to fly in instrument conditions, to stay focused, and to handle unexpected surprises and emergencies (i.e. instrument failures). Once it's over, I'll fly back to Georgia, go to my barn, and celebrate with a beer.

They say the pilot's motto is 'Hurry up and wait.' Well, here I am. Four hours from home, waiting. It actually brings a disappointed grin to my face. Wow, its amazing, the things guys who were born to fly will do. . . . .

I Guess I Can Dance

Sorry it’s been a few days. It's been very busy here the last week or so. Remember? I asked for it and now I have it. I won't bore you all with every detail but I was hitting my first wall this past week. It's that phase of training when it seems like you can't do anything right. You're confused, lost, and downright irritated with everything that isn't crisp. Flying is a lot like dancing. First, you learn each of the steps. You work to master each one individually. But it's not until you begin to put them all together in the appropriate environment (that is to say, to music) that it really becomes the art it was intended to be. Well, the steps are confusing to me out of context. We did precision approaches. We did non-precision approaches. We did the communications with our good friends at Atlanta Approach Control. We did holds. We tracked VORs. And we did it all, of course, blind to the outside of the cockpit. And each victory, fewer and farther between, seemed to be so short-lived. Right after I nailed the ILS approach into some random airport, the celebration was quickly stifled as I called up Atlanta Approach and said, "Asheville Approach, Diamond 246 Delta Charlie is climbing through 2500 for 4000." Wait!! Damn, they're not Asheville! I'm an idiot! And the controller certainly confirmed that in his response to me. But all that to say, this was during the time I was seeing each step out of context. Then came yesterday. We sat at the end of the runway in Peachtree City, ready to go. I called up Atlanta Approach and received the IFR clearance I'd filed for shortly before. We took off and the controller cleared us direct to Auburn. After tracking inbound to Auburn, the controller came on and gave us a set of directions and then cleared us for the ILS approach. I read back the instructions and began the descent. This steady and rhythmic approach would hopefully lead to the opportunity for a great landing. Two hundred feet off the ground, I raised my foggles and boom, there it was. Like a giant concrete carpet laid out in front of me, the runway stretched out straight ahead with perfection. It was a great instrument approach to landing. And then, just like that, we were off again. I called Atlanta back up and told them we were ready for our next leg to Newnan, GA. And so on and so on. You see what happened? Art. All of a sudden, I could hear the music and the dance ensued. It all made sense in context. I couldn't see a thing with my eyes, yet I was seeing a portrait of perfection unveiled right in front of me as all the pieces came together. And let me say, it was beautiful. I didn’t feel like I knew what I was doing – I did know what I was doing. Well anyway, all this to say that things are really beginning to come together in training. I’m really beginning to enjoy the challenge of each flight, knowing each day I become more and more equipped to handle it.

Some of you have been asking for some more pictures -- here you go.

This is the view from my new office, my new desk, and Claudia, my instructor.

Fixation 101

It was really hard leaving yesterday to come back to Georgia. Cheryl and I celebrated our 6th anniversary over the weekend. Wow, can you believe it? Six years and she still puts up with me. And in spite of the long distance marriage I've forced on us, she's managed to find the strength to be an encouragement to me when I am able to make it home. You all knew it would take someone special and it does.

It was 5:30am when the alarm started nudging me back to consciousness. I fought it like hell - at least until 5:45 when my better judgement took over and reminded me that I shouldn't run late to something I want to do - and flying ranks up there with the likes of golf and fishing. So I crawled off the futon and began getting ready. When I walked out to leave, I noticed something I've rarely seen in my life - a sunrise. Now, I saw a few in college with my good buddies Fern and Caleb at the end of great evening, but nowadays, most sunrises start without me. So I hopped in the dew-covered Focus, impressed that I might be normal and headed off to the airport. I even carefully selected appropriate music as not to ruin this beautiful moment I'd stumbled on. Then, about ten minutes into the drive my cell phone rings. I look at the caller id and see that it's my instructor. 'Uh oh,' I think. She informs me that the weather is below minimums for flight and that we have to postpone our flight until later this afternoon. Just like the needle skidding off a vinyl record and the ensuing screech, all of my morning majesty halted in an instant. All of a sudden my attitude morphed into 'I got my ass out of bed while it was still dark for nothing!' What I had failed to notice in all of the pride I had for getting up was that the car was indeed covered in dew, that I had to turn my fog lights on, and that, still, I could hardly make out the road I was driving on for all the fog. My 'beautiful moment' clouded my ability to make the connection that poor driving conditions might mean poor flying conditions too. But I have to admit. It was not in vain. This sunrise did not start without me; and now it was right in front of me as I drove back east to the barn. I also learned an interesting lesson. As I 'fixated' on the morning unfolding in front of me, I neglected to notice some of those other important things aforementioned. Now, you've waited patiently for the point. As I sat in class tonight after a long day, the instructor began talking about 'fixation' in the cockpit. It's deadly. Fixating on one situation, gauge, etc. can cause a pilot to neglect some other very important things. And history and its statistics have proven that it has and will kill. Is there irony here in what I experienced this morning and what the instructor came tonight prepared to speak about? I don't think it's irony at all.

Now, I'm here for several reasons - but none more important than the fact that I'm supposed to be. This seems to be constantly evidenced in the lessons I'm learning - and not in the ones being presented in class. God has His way of showing that He's very much a part of this whole learning experience - even when I fail to notice.

Dream Ingredients

You can take on any endeavor with all the confidence in the world and still, you will always have that shadow of doubt in the back of your mind causing you to ask yourself, 'Can I really do this?' Today was quite the challenge. Three hours of hood time with air as bumpy as the back 40 coupled with 100 degree heat (cooled to a nice 90 degrees or so at altitude). Two and a half hours in I'm asking myself what in the hell I've gotten myself into. Starting to feel the nausea I was warned about, I'm not believing that I, the one whose stomach has learned to handle just about anything, am beginning to feel a little crappy. Am I really cut out for this? And then, right at the moment I realize the minutes on my stomach are numbered, she says it. "Okay Jeremy, everything looks great. Now lets do some stalls." Now I know I have family and friends reading this so I won't dictate the thought that went through my head, but you can imagine. Stalls when you can see are one thing. But when you can't see out of the plane and you stall a plane, you brain doesn't get warning of the impending stall from your eyes. You know its coming but your body doesn't. And then it happens - you stall and your stomach bounces off your nasal cavity and then tries to exit through your ass. Ahhhh, the joy of instrument flight training. But I quickly shrugg off the unsettling moment when I think to myself, 'You know, Jeremy, you could be printing off a bank contract, getting ready to sell that smelly family their first new Focus. And all Grandma wants is to make sure it has a cupholder for her spit cup.' And then I'm back to the reason I came here to follow this dream. Nausea and all, this is a pretty incredible thing to get to do. And then at the end of the day, Claudia says, "Well, you're doing great. You're flying the DA40 like you've been flying it a long time." That was almost all the encouragement I needed to hear. The rest came at dinner when my fortune cookie told me that if I believed in myself, I WOULD succeed. Isn't that the stuff real dreams are made of?



One last note: several of you have asked about what I'm flying so here's a picture of it. It's an incredible flying machine. The Diamond DA40 -

Good News, Bad News

I found out today that I was being reassigned to a new flight instructor. This is a good thing. Her name is Claudia and she is one of the most respected flight instructors here. This was done because of the program pace that I've requested. I need someone that can fly a couple of times a day and therefore isn't bogged down with several other students. I told her that I wanted to be done with instrument by the end of the month and on to commercial by September. She smiled as though to say, 'bring it on.' Here's the bad news. She did what I asked and scheduled the hell out of me for the next few weeks - twice a day in the air and a ton of ground work. I have my written exam at the end of next week and haven't even cracked a book. Got pace? I do. Some more good news: we're beginning right with the sweet flying. I'll spend the next few weeks in the Diamond DA40 with the G1000 glass panel cockpit - just like the big boys. No more steam gauges. This may be like Spanish to friends or family who really could care less, but it'd be like taking your driving test at 16 years old in a Ferrari. This is a picture of the cockpit I'm referring to. And its a really good thing this panel is pretty to look at since I won't be able to look out the window - I'll be flying by these instruments alone. Well, I asked for it to be intense and it most certainly already is. That's what I'm here for. Bust ass and get it done.

The Race Begins. . .

This is a better day yet - I found Peachtree City's Taco Bell.

I'm going up later today to start training under the hood for my instrument. There will be no seeing out the window for about a month. That sucks. I spoke with my new instructor a bit ago and let him know that I intended to schedule the hell out of him for the next few months. He said he was just excited to have a non-international student and told me he'd fly with me 4 times a day if I could handle it. Sounds like a challenge to me. . . . So here we go - off to the airport for some flying.

My Barn Away From Home

Well, here we go. Post #1. I'm here now in Peachtree City and its been a pretty good first day. 'Indoc' day as its known at the school - a lot of paperwork, a lot of meeting new people, and a whole lot of confusion. First flight went fine - Atlanta smog makes the view nonexistent but I just didn't care today - I was home in the air. There were a lot of maneuvers we did in the Diamond that would have been challenging even if I were already familiar with a stick and rudder - so add that new dimension and it was especially uncomfortable. Slow flight, constant rate turns, and all the other boring review stuff - all in a new cockpit and a new beehive airspace. But I have to say - it all started to come back quickly and the new feel of the stick began to feel a little more natural by the end. All three landing were nice - center stripe with plenty of runway to go. I can't wait to do it again tomorrow. Alright, now on to the more interesting stuff - my barn. Its great. Here are a few pics of my new palace:

The Grand Entrance

Mine is the first stall on the left

Some of my roommates

My Living room, my dining room, my bedroom, my bathroom, my closet, and my office.

. . . and my new backyard.

All in all, this is going to be pretty okay. I found the airport, I found WalMart, and I FINALLY found free high speed internet! Now if I can just find something to clear up the symptoms of homesickness. I'll work on that tomorrow.