I pulled into my usual parking space in the car park opposite the aero club and wandered in with a McDonald’s breakfast in hand for my girlfriend, instructor, and I. The weather was terrible, with low cloud hanging over the airfield. This wasn’t the case for the whole county; there were clear blue skies overhead my house twenty minutes away.
It was obvious that unless conditions improved, no flying would be taking place today. Thankfully, the flying club is a very sociable place, and the morning was spent talking computers, aircraft, and all things in between. After a while, I decided to head home, on the agreement that the flying club would call if conditions improved.
A few hours passed, and just as I was about to give up on flying at all, my phone rang – it was my instructor, saying conditions had improved and we were go for flying! I quickly gathered my things and headed over the airfield. As soon as I arrived, I got my aircraft checked and we were on our way.
The workload placed upon me by my instructor had been ever increasing in the hours leading up to today, and I was now at the level of taking control of the aircraft from initial engine start all the way to power off with little intervention from my instructor whatsoever. I called for taxi, took the aircraft off to the appropriate holding point where I did the necessary power checks before being cleared for take-off; we were away!
After a few circuits and glide approaches (simulated engine failures), I performed a touch and go before flying the aircraft up to 2,500ft into the overhead. Once at altitude, I was instructed to completely close the throttle and establish best-glide, before turning back towards the airfield and landing safely. Judging the distance the aircraft can glide seems to be something that’s becoming a little clearer to me. The more simulated engine failure manoeuvres I perform, the better I find my glide distance judgement; practice, practice, practice.
The runway in use today was 36, the helicopter circuit was active, and best of all, the runway’s VASI had been turned off. Usually I wouldn’t be so keen to land without approach indicators, but the practice is essential as not all airfields have them, so I want to make sure I can nail all of my approaches without the aid of PAPIs or VASIs.
As I turned final I nailed the 75 knot approach speed. Approaching the aerodrome boundary I deployed the final stage of flaps to further reduce the aircraft’s airspeed. Flaps deployed and throttle on a low power setting, we crossed the aerodrome boundary when my instructor said “go around”, which caught me entirely off-guard. I’d just made the best approach of the day, and now we’re going around (for no other reason than training purposes).
It was at this point I made a mistake. Upon hearing the go around call I radioed the tower, “Foxtrott Tango 5 3, going around” and then shed the third stage of flaps before bringing the power up, establishing a high nose attitude before finally setting the carburettor heat to cold. The PA28 limped back up into the sky, despite my failure. What a blunder! Hours earlier I would’ve happily rattled off the correct go around sequence (power up, nose up, third stage of flap up, carburettor heat up (cold)). I couldn’t believe I’d gotten this wrong, which further highlighted how practice, practice, practice is absolutely essential. I’m not the first aviator to make this mistake, and I certainly won’t be the last, however, it’s something I’ll definitely learn from as this is not a mistake I ever want to make again!
As we climbed away I conveyed my dismay at my own actions, and my instructor professionally pointed out the correct go-around procedure. There would be time for reflection on the ground, however, my instructor pulled an active-runway change on me as we climbed away. This meant I quickly had to establish which part of the circuit I was in (downwind), make a radio call requesting a runway change, and permission to land off this approach, which was all approved. The light conditions were decreasing, cloud was lowering, and most important of all, we hadn’t had time for a mug of tea before the flight so we were both struggling.
As I made the final radio call downwind my instructor popped the top hatch of the door, simulating a crash-configuration where the PA28′s only door is “popped” open ahead of a crash landing to prevent trapping those onboard. The noise of the wind blowing in was enough to make communication a little difficult. Regardless, I was responsible for bringing the aircraft in for a safe landing, which I believe I did. Blocking the cold, noise, and rushing wind was a great challenge.
Back at the flying club we discussed some of the positive and negative points of today’s lesson before tucking into a slice of birthday cake and sipping piping hot tea. Another day, another lesson done.