February 29, 2004
Cross-Country (Finally)
Click for a larger image.
I don't know if it's because I left Amy or the camera at home (just kidding honey *ducks*), but today, the weather finally cooperated and I was able to complete my first dual cross-country flight from Campbell Airport (C81) up to Baraboo Wisconsin Dells Airport (DLL). The trip was 104 nautical miles (120 normal person miles) each way, and took 2.5 hours to complete.
The two Piper Warriors were reserved, so Brice told me to check out the Piper Archer (PA-28-181). It flew almost exactly like the Warriors, except it was a little heavier on the rudder when taxiing or climbing out. The 20 extra horses (180 H.P., versus 160H.P. for the Warrior) really added to the left-yaw tendencies of the aircraft on takeoff. One advantage of the bigger engine was a faster cruise speed (around 110-115 knots). We were glad to have it on the way home when the tailwind we had getting up there turned into a headwind and then some.
I learned/applied a lot of new things on this trip. The first of which was filing and opening a flight plan. After checking the weather again and adjusting my trip calculations to account for the faster cruise of the Archer, I called up the FSS and told them what I planned to do. Much like getting a weather briefing or talking to controllers, this seems like a bigger deal than it really is. The number one thing to remember is that the person on the other end of the phone line or radio waves is just that - a person. And that person's job is to help you. They help you make decisions, help you stay safe, and help you learn. With both the weather briefing and flight plan filing, the briefer started out curt and professional. When I mentioned 'I'm a student' or 'this is my first time' he chilled out and helped me along through the process.
Filing a flight plan for a VFR trip is an optional exercise that's viewed as free insurance in case of problems enroute. If you file a flight plan and don't close it by the time you estimated you'd arrive at your destination, the FAA starts looking for you. The flight plan gives them an idea of where to look for you:
- Your destination airport - perhaps you forgot to close the flight plan.
- Your departure airport - perhaps you ran into problems, returned to the airport and forgot to close your flight plan.
- Somewhere along your route - perhaps you ran into problems and had to put down at an alternate airport or in a field and your forgot to or couldn't close your flight plan.
By the way, it's kind of important to close your flight plan ;-)
Anyway, I filed a flight plan, and we were off (with all of the typical pre-flight fanfare). After I got set up on my initial heading and in a steady climb, I called the FSS (Flight Service Station) on the radio and activated the flight plan. Activating the plan consists of giving the FSS your tail number and letting them know what time you actually left. This way they can adjust your ETA and you don't have to worry if you're delayed getting out of the airport. The key, though, is that you need to note your actual departure time, which luckily I remembered to do.
Flying VFR basically consists of comparing what you see outside to what your chart/map says you should be seeing. During pre-flight planning, you draw your course line on the chart, so you literally follow along on the line with your finger as you pass over various landmarks. I've always loved maps, and I used to do the same thing as a kid on road trips with my family. This part was easy and fun and as I leveled off at 4,500 feet, I spotted Lake Geneva up ahead. Right on course. However, I was (irrationally) fearing what was to come next: Madison Approach.
Since the point of doing a dual cross-country trip is for the learning experience, Brice had intentionally selected a destination airport so that I'd have to communicate with Madison Approach - the agency that controls the Class C airspace around Dane County Regional Airport (MSN) in Madison, Wisconsin. Again, this sounded a whole lot scarier than it ended up being. All you have to do is let them know who you are and what you're up to. Once you do that, they give you a specific code to enter into your transponder (a device that responds to radar signals with the specific code and sometimes altitude information, thus making you easier to track) and let you know when they have radar contact with you. Then if they need to, they'll tell you to do certain things to avoid getting in the way of other planes. On the way up to The Dells, they just let us go on our merry way. It was a slow day, so we really had minimal contact with them. Had it been busier, they may have vectored us around traffic, asked us to climb up and out of the airspace (as they did on the return trip), or told us to avoid the airspace altogether.
Once we were past the Class C airspace and beyond approach's radar control, they cut us loose and told us to 'squawk 1200,' which is the default transponder code for VFR traffic. I had a little further to go on my course and had to be sure of clearing a ridge spiked with radio towers before I started descending for the airport, but I started looking for the runway while I had a good vantage point.
It's somewhat scary how easy it is to feel 'lost' when looking for an airport. I wasn't really scared, becasue I knew I wasn't really lost - things were still jibing between the scene outside the window and the markings on the chart. But I was looking over toward where I expected the airport to be, and I just couldn't see it. I looked at the map, and saw the airport should be just south of a bend in the river up ahead. I looked out the window, saw the bend, drew a line straight south from that, but didn't see anything resembling a runway. So I tried again. By now, I had started my descent. I looked at the map again - nope, I wasn't crazy, it should be right there off the elbow in the river. I looked out the window again - nope, it wasn't there.
I think Brice could see I was starting to get flustered so he made a small suggestion, "Where is the airport compared to the city?" So I found Baraboo on the map and looked out the window expecting it to be just behind my left wing. But it wasn't there. Not only had someone moved the airport on me, but now they'd stolen a small Wisconsin city as well. Someone should really do something about the crime rate in rural America! I kept looking out the window and eventually found the city I was looking for. It wasn't behind my wing, but just off the trailing edge of my wingtip. I wasn't quite as far west as I'd thought I was. So from there, I traced a line north and just like Waldo, the runway suddenly leapt out at me.
Based on the wind report I'd gotten from the AWOS (Automated Weather Observation Station) at the field, I knew I needed to use Runway 19 but by this point, I was almost past the airport. So to execute a 'proper' pattern entry, I had to do a 'dipsy-doodle' to get myself into position. As I was executing these turns, I discovered why I had failed to spot the airport earlier - the elbow in the river I was looking at wasn't an elbow at all, it was just a brief bend before the big bend. Mystery solved.
Click for a larger image.
The landing was pretty uneventful. We parked the plane and headed into the FBO for a pit stop. On the way, we stopped at the pay phone to close out the flight plan ;-) The return trip was more of the same, if a little more relaxed. For fun, we played with the GPS this plane was equipped with. I climbed up to 5,500 feet and over the top of Madison's airspace. Once we were clear of their airspace, I came back down to 3,500 feet to get out of some haze. The rest of the trip was just like returning from the practice area. I made a butt-ugly landing on Runway 24 and called it a day. Well, the trip couldn't be perfect, could it?
