Pulse

In 13 hours, I'll be sitting in a classrom, getting ready to take my last final of the semester. In 24 hours, Jen and I will be leaving AWANA to come home and try to sleep a little before our 3am drive to Tucson. In 34 hours, we'll be on a plane, getting ready to take off, bound for our connection at Dallas Fort Worth. Assuming no delays, in 40 hours, we'll be getting situated in our rental car, about to drive to Linwood by way of Saginaw. This time has arrived much too slow and much too fast.

Finally!

Jenny gets back from her conference today! I'm so excited to see her and hug her and kiss her and... well, I should go now.

Health is in the eye of the beholder.

It's Thursday today, one week exactly since Thanksgiving. However, it's also one week exactly since I last felt good physically. I started having sinus/cold-type symptoms last Friday, after our brief early-morning shopping venture (see Jenny's blog), which then mutated into the most bizarre progression of symptoms I've ever experienced. Friday was congestion and sniffles. When I woke up Saturday morning, I had one of the worst headaches of my life, but the sniffles were gone. I spent the entire day trying unsuccessfully to shake the headache. When I wok up Sunday morning, my headache was gone, but I was having stomach cramps. By Sunday evening, my stomach cramps had somehow multiplied and moved into my shoulders, so I was having alternating stomach and shoulder cramps. BAD shoulder cramps. When I woke up Monday morning, my shoulder cramps were gone but I started having really bad stomach problems. Tuesday morning found me feeling substantially better, but still aware something wasn't right with my insides. And, finally, yesterday I went to the doctor (well, nurse practitioner) and got my diagnosis and cure. Unfortunately, she opted not to try and figure out all the previous symptoms, and focused on simply finding a solution to my stomach troubles. I would've really liked to know how someone finds himself the victim of such a weird and seemingly-random list of maladies, especially when those maladies caused me to miss an entire week of flight training and all but one day of work. Today's Thursday, and while I'm starting to feel better again, my treatment regiment the FNP put me on has left me feeling exhausted and weak. In fact, I'm done typing now, because the concentration is too much for me.

Eye of the Storm

As I mentioned in my last post, I was starting to come apart under the stress that's recently entered my life. Well, in what I now know was a pretty wise act of self-preservation, I asked Sally (my sort-of boss) for some time off work, and she graciously gave it to me. I didn't work Wednesday or Thursday, and I certainly didn't help wash an airplane this morning. Instead, I've been spending the time alternately unwinding and studying, and it's worked wonders for my stress level. My original plan had me back at work on Monday, but Sally keeps telling me I'm more than welcome to take more time if I need it. We'll see where things are at on Monday morning before I make a definite decision. We can always use the extra bit of money my job brings in, but my instrument rating has to have top priority in my life right now. So, we'll see. Thanks, you guys, for praying for me. I'm feeling MUCH better mentally.

The Death of Me

Instrument is taking its toll on me in a very dramatic way. The stress I've been feeling is really starting to manifest itself in my daily life, and I don't know what to do about it. It seems like this is just going to loom over me until I've finally passed the Instrument practical test. I guess I'm asking for prayer, because I truly don't know how to keep going until this is over.

This here's a little something I like to call "Western Civilization the Cochise Way"

Today, class, my talk’s on the dawn of the world,
And the lifestyle of primitive man.
And I think, when I’m done, you’ll probably see
Just how full of bologna I am.

Now the topic, though based in historical fact,
Must be broached by my making a case
For the thought that our forebears were probably joined
By little grey people from space.

That’s right: guests from the cosmos most likely came down
And established Atlantis to serve
As a center of knowledge for primitive man.
You just have to admire my verve,

For I boldly assert that Atlantians taught
Our ancient ancestors to build
All the pyramids and wonders in history books,
Just before the Atlantians were killed

By a nuclear meltdown or maybe a bomb
That went off on their small continent.
‘Cause their alien science was better than ours.
It was meant for mankind’s betterment.

As the Epic of Gilgamesh so clearly states
The Mesopotamians had flown
In space-alien airplanes transparent and round
Unlike any today’s world has known.

But after the blast that wiped out their home,
The Atlantians prob’ly had traveled
To Egypt, along with their wondrous know-how.
Now the mysteries of time are unraveled.

Those pyramids out on the hot desert sands
Weren’t really the tombs of dead kings.
In fact, they were for fueling Atlantian ships
And some other incredible things.

So you see, class, our history lessons are much
Like the scripts from that show, The X-Files.
You’re dismissed now. Hey, wait! I’d just like to know
Why you’re wearing those cynical smiles.

Madness

Have you heard about this new movement to make Santa Claus be skinny in order to set kids a better example? Am I alone, or are you shaking your head at it, too? I can't speak for anyone else, but I'm fat. I'm a big fat guy. I jiggle when I walk. Heck, I jiggle when I breathe. I've been a fatty since I was in the third grade. Coincidentally, I also believed in Santa when I was in the third grade. I absolutely must make it clear, however, that Santa's weight had no bearing whatsoever on my choosing the lardy lifestyle. I never, ever said to myself, "Boy, oh boy, wouldn't it just be swell if I could be a big fat guy like Santa." In reality, there were three main factors that influenced my decision to be corpulent, and none of them was Santa. Rather, they were, in no particular order, pastry, fast food, and candy. Don't get me wrong; I always liked Santa, but only because he bought my affection. I was a big fan of his generosity, but I can't say I ever admired (or even cared about) his weight. If I ever wanted to be Santa, it was only so I could have unlimited access to that ultra-sweet toy factory. The fact that there are people out there who honestly believe Santa's weight is a factor in the obesity of the grade school crowd, is just a little bit beyond ridiculous. I'll even go one step further and point this out: When overweight folks see a bunch of lean, sexy, beautiful people in the media, we're not motivated to slim down; we're only encouraged to feel bad about ourselves. Those images are simply fuel for the already-brilliantly-blazing self-hatred deep within us. And when we see a skinny person who USED TO BE fat, it's so much worse. If the idiots spearheading this movement are successful, they're only going to give chubby kids one more reason to feel not-good-enough. That being the case, it can only be concluded that Santa already IS a positive example for kids, because he's jolly and bright and kind, despite being morbidly obese. Those who think he needs to shed some pounds have obviously been duped into believing looks are the most important thing in life. And so, I'm forced to say, "Shame on you, America. You just keep getting dumber and dumber."

How to Ruin an Afternoon

Step One: Be a hardcore perfectionist.

Step Two: Attempt to plan an IFR cross-country that's well beyond what you've been taught, because you're required to.

Step Three: Finish the planning to the best of your meager abilities, knowing it's not right.

Step Four: Let it really eat away at you that your planning isn't right and there's nothing you can do to improve it.

Step Five: Allow the thought that you purposely took a zero on a term paper, to seep into your already-troubled mind and bother you even more.

Step Six: Go upstairs, put on some old James Taylor music and silently fume, while your spouse and friends are eating cake (in honor of your birthday) and ice cream, and playing games downstairs.

It's been some kinda weekend so far. I was supposed to write two papers this weekend, one for Creative Writing and one for Western Civ. And this is where I had to start making some tough decisions. My priority here MUST be aviation. If that gets lost in the shuffle, then we really need to wonder why we're still here. My practical test for my Instrument Rating is coming up in the next month or so, and it includes a 3 1/2 hour oral exam, so I really need to be reading and studying. Writing 2 papers really eats up study time... you can see where this is going. After crunching some numbers Friday morning, I determined that if I took a zero on the Creative Writing paper, I would still have an 85% in the class, with 3 more units and a final project to boost that grade into an A. So I resigned myself to taking the zero. Unfortunately, the Civ paper is worth about 20% of my total grade for the class, so I had to write it. That's not to say, though, that I had to write an award-winning masterpiece. I sat down at my computer and, in less than 2 hours, hammered out a four-page clunker. Again, I don't need 100% on the paper; my current grade is good enough that it can easily survive any grade, other than a zero. And so, having dealt with my papers by early Friday afternoon, I spent a big chunk of yesterday reading the instrument procedures section of the AIM (Aeronautical Information Manual). That's not to say I finished the section (it's pretty involved reading), but I'm a lot closer to the end than I was before the weekend started. After church today, I have to plan an IFR (Instrument Flight Rules) cross-country to Casa Grande, so Belinda can be sure I know how to do it. I have 3 cross-countries to fly before I take my practical, so it's important that I get the planning skills down ASAP. And now I have to go get ready for church.

What follows is a true story, written for a creative writing exercise, posted at Jen's suggestion.

It was an otherwise-ordinary evening in the summer of 2001, when I learned a very important life lesson. My roommate, Josh, and I, along with our friend, Bobbi, had decided to go out for dinner. After an unnecessarily lengthy and, at times, heated discussion, we finally decided on Applebee’s. Josh and I were both craving their all-you-can-eat riblets. All through my teen years, I never tried drugs or did any of those other foolish activities normally associated with peer pressure. Short of those extremes, though, I’d never had a problem with doing something silly or weird at the urging of my friends. This night, though, my questionable standards would lead me to ruin.

Our trio arrived at Applebee’s and, as was expected, Josh and I both ordered the riblets, while Bobbi ordered chicken fingers. Josh tended to be a little bit competitive, which I knew well and which is normal for young men in their early twenties. However, I foolishly failed to take this fact into account when I placed my order. Our food soon arrived, and we began eating. After Josh and I had both finished our first platter of riblets, our waitress promptly brought us each a second helping. We finished these in due time and entered into a brief discussion on whether or not we felt up to having thirds. This was where Josh’s competitive nature reared its ugly head. Convinced we couldn’t wimp out at seconds, Josh talked me into one more round of riblets, though I admit I didn’t need much persuasion.

Our waitress arrived a few minutes later to take away our bone-laden plates, and inquired as to whether we’d be needing even more riblets. Josh decided he’d had enough. Unfortunately, he also decided I needed to keep eating. I looked to Bobbi to be the voice of reason but, having finished her chicken fingers, she was in the mood to be entertained and decided to argue Josh’s case, instead. The two of them convinced me I should try for five orders of riblets, to which I finally acquiesced, though I honestly wasn’t sure I could succeed. You know, looking back, there’s really something to be said for the human body’s capacity to ingest ridiculous quantities of meat. Thanks to the events of the evening in question, I now know that the whole thing eventually becomes almost exactly like shoving marshmallows into a tube sock. You can just keep shoving and shoving. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Our waitress reappeared and handed me serving number four. After finishing this plate of riblets, I was pretty sure I was ready to quit. My stomach was uncomfortably full, and I was just a little bit afraid of embarrassing myself by puking in the middle of a crowded restaurant. Once more consulting Josh and Bobbi, my so-called friends, I found myself grudgingly requesting a fifth helping of pork. A moment later, I found myself just as grudgingly eating said pork.

As I set down the final bone, thus marking my victory over five plates of sauce-laden riblets, relief welled up within me. I’d done it! I’d gotten the better of a disgusting amount of meat! Feeling like a hero in my own right, I turned to my friends with a smug smile. It’s to my eternal shame that I confess, now, my smile was short-lived. Unimpressed with my accomplishment, Josh and Bobbi decided that I needed to go for ten, and that they needed some dessert. Placing our respective orders with our long-suffering waitress, I silently promised myself I would stop after my sixth order of riblets.

It turns out I lied to myself in that moment, because our waitress soon brought out the seventh order. As she set the plate down, she said, “I told my manager about what you’re doing, and he says if you can eat ten orders of riblets, he’ll give you a free dessert. But you have to eat it in the restaurant.” Giving her the look such an idiotic suggestion deserved, I resignedly started in on the plate of meat.

It should be said that, by this point, I was painfully aware of how out-of-hand the situation had become, but that I felt powerless to stop it. It had started as a joke, an easy way of giving my friends something to laugh about. Then the management of the restaurant had gotten involved. All I could do now was push on to number ten, then go home and die from meat poisoning or some other fitting consequence of so absurd a prank.

When my tenth and final order of riblets arrived at our table, the aforementioned manager came with it. He shook my hand (I’m not kidding), then said, “I talked to our cook, and he tells me you’ll have eaten about 64 ounces of meat when you finish this order. Did your waitress tell you about my offer?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “But there’s no way I’m going to want dessert after this.”

Being a generous and good-natured fellow, he made a new offer. “Okay, if you finish this order of riblets, I’ll give your friends a free dessert to split.” It seemed a fine idea, except my friends had already each eaten a dessert of their own. I informed him of this and, after a moment’s careful consideration, he said, “Okay, I’ll take their desserts off the check if you finish this order.” As you can imagine, at this point my friends became even more persuasive in their urging. Watching their fat friend eat an almost supernatural amount of meat had been good enough for them, but now they were faced with the prospect of each saving five dollars on the check.

Suffice it to say, I finished that tenth order of riblets, and the manager was as good as his word: my friends did get their desserts taken off the check. As I squirmed in my seat on the drive home from Applebee’s, wishing unsuccessfully for a swift and merciful death, I was forced to acknowledge that I’d learned a very important life lesson: Giving in to peer pressure is always a bad idea.

Favorite

This is my favorite picture from our weekend away. Incidentally, it's also going to be my new profile picture. I'm just full of changes tonite.

"He met a pilgrim shadow..."

Does anyone else use Hotmail as their primary e-mail? If so, are you as annoyed as I am that Hotmail decided to turn itself into a sad Yahoo Mail clone? The thing I liked most about Hotmail was that it wasn't very much like Yahoo Mail at all. And now it looks exactly like Yahoo Mail. It's like when Meijer decided it needed to look just exactly like Super Wal-Mart. Can anyone suggest a really good e-mail service that ISN'T Yahoo or Hotmail? I've been feeling like it's time for a new e-mail address, anyway, and I may as well switch services while I'm at it. I'm expecting suggestions.

It's more effective if you hum the Star Wars theme while you read it.

Flight Program
Episode 4
A New Hope


It is a period of Southwestern
unrest. The sinister Federal Aviation
Administration, represented by the nefarious
examiner, Chuck Perry, has administered
one of its most awesome weapons,
the Part 141 Instrument Rating midstage
check, against the peace-loving
Douglas LaBos.

However, in a stunning display of
simulated pilotage, Josh LaBo, celebrated
hero of the Douglas LaBos,
has overcome the dreaded
midstage check. After seeking out
the legendary pilot master, Belinda,
Josh has been informed that
his training in the ways of
the Instrument could be completed
by Thanksgiving…

Half Finished With Fall

Erin is officially gone now. I was telling Jen earlier that it feels weird to look over at aviation now. For a year, I've associated the sight of the aviation building and ramp with flying with Erin. Now that she's gone, my brain is having a hard time finding something with which to associate the sight. As a result, the building seems all mysterious and unknown again, the way it felt when we first moved here. But I start flying with Belinda at 12:15 on Monday, so my brain will have something new to work with. If all goes well, I'll still be able to easily knock out my instrument rating and begin commercial stage 2 before Christmas break. Actually, this whole situation is probably a gift from God. I'm at a point in my training where things are getting a little more serious, and Belinda's got a whole lot more experience, both flying and instructing, than Erin, so she's probably going to be able to give me better insights into things than I'd been getting from Erin. That's not an insult to Erin; it's just a matter of experience. I'm looking forward to the experience.

I finished my midterms for my two online classes this morning. I got a 90% on one of them. I really phoned it in on the other one, though, so I have to wait and see what grade I wind up with. My classroom class midterm is Wednesday. This is the class in which I've repeatedly butted heads with the instructor. For some reason I can't comprehend, it's made the guy act like I'm his best friend in class. I'm expecting a high grade on the midterm, not because I think he'll fudge me some high marks, but because the fact that I'm butting heads with him means I know the information, both what he's taught us, as well as what the textbook says. I'm one of those sickos who takes Western Civilization classes because I think they're easy credits.

Jen and I will be celebrating three years of marriage on Tuesday. Weird, huh? It seems like we've been married forever, not in a bad way, but because it's hard to remember life before we were together. To celebrate, we're going to spend next weekend at the guest house on Lee Station Ranch, a local ranch owned by a couple we used to go to church with. They awarded me their son's memorial scholarship earlier this year and invited us to visit anytime, so we're finally taking them up on their offer. It would have been this weekend, but they're out of town until tomorrow afternoon. That's okay, though, because it looks like we might be going to Patagonia (the nearest body of water, unless I'm mistaken) with the Burkes tomorrow. To that end, I really need to go work on a writing exercise for my Creative Writing class.

Cracking...

After the tremendous outpouring of support and encouragement for my last post (yep, that's sarcasm), I've decided to talk more about the situation. I've been simming a lot lately, for various reasons. First and foremost, I have some sim time requirements I have to meet before I can do the mid-stage check. Unfortunately, simming isn't going too well for me, and I'm not totally sure why, but it's really beginning to frustrate me. It might be that I've been "flying" approaches that involve an NDB, and I'm really bad at NDB tracking. It might be that my upcoming instructor transition is always in the back of my mind now. It might be both, or it might be something else altogether. In any case, I think I'm starting to crack under the stress. I'm right on the verge of my mid-stage, but I'm also right on the verge of an instructor change. And I found out that the assistant chief flight instructor is going to be taking over my training. She's also been my pilot examiner for all of my stage checks up to this point, so I'm having a hard time seeing her as a flight instructor instead of a testing authority. I feel like all my forward momentum in my training this semester has petered out, and I'm dead in the water. I've been really listless and moody lately, but that's how my body always reacts to anxiety and stress. I just want to make it through this week, and I'm sure things will pick back up. Erin will be gone, I'll be working on getting used to Belinda and, hopefully, I'll start moving forward in my training again, under her tutelage.

Speaking of Erin, she's coming over for dinner tonight, so we can sort of say our goodbyes. She leaves for Wisconsin tomorrow, and she's only working a half day, so I have no idea when I'm flying or who I'm flying with. Maybe I just won't fly at all, and start fresh on Monday.

Changing of the Guard

Erin, my flight instructor, is taking a gig with a regional airline. She's moving to Wisconsin next Thursday. She was my seventh flight instructor, since God first put me on this path. Next week, I'll be assigned to number 8. I'm hoping against hope that #8 will be as high as the list gets before I finish at Cochise.

Loyalties

Just before I left for work this morning, I found out that a very dear and beloved friend of mine (my closest friend, after Jen) tried to kill himself either last week or over the weekend. Details are sketchy right now, because the only source of information I have is my friend, himself, writing on a laptop, apparently from his hospital bed and apparently heavily medicated. There are 2000 miles between us, so I can't even go visit him. I can't talk to him face-to-face, I can't hug him; I have no way at all of letting him know he matters to me, except by sending him a stupid e-mail.

This past week, Jenny called me out to the second-floor railing outside our apartment to show this interesting critter. Now, we get a LOT of bugs out here, but this was the first time either of us had ever seen one like this. It looked EXACTLY like a leaf! As always, click the picture once to enlarge it. Enjoy!

Improving My Memory

So. We meet again. How long's it been? Too long, I guess.

Since our apartment is so stinking hot (the swamp cooler was down overnight for maintenance), Jen and I are going to enjoy some McDonald's for dinner tonight, followed by a short quest for a flash drive. I have to save a pretty substantial number of files for my Creative Writing class, and a flash drive will enable me to work on my writing exercises on any computer on campus. Since the world has largely lost faith in the lovable little floppy disk, a flash drive seems like the way to go.

My classes are going okay. The content of my Western Civ class remains vexing (so far, I've been told that aliens planted Atlantis so the Atlantians could teach Neolithic man how to build pyramids, that the Eyptians of the Middle Kingdom had space-age technology like x-ray machines, and that Pharoah had all the Hebrew firstborn put to death because he feared the birth of their Messiah). To be fair, though, the guy who teaches the class is a basketball coach, versus an Egyptologist or PhD or anyone who would actually be qualified to teach such a class. The last time I took a Western Civ class, it was taught by a brilliant Egyptologist named Dr. Scott Carroll, so I guess I was naive to expect anything from this class other than disappointment. And, as I've said, the only function this class must serve is to provide me with the credits I need in order to receive full financial aid.

In my Creative Writing class, one of our two required texts is a book called Writing Down the Bones. It's a book of writing tips written by a Buddhist, who regularly quotes Buddhist holy men and describes writing as a spiritual exercise. In one of my assignments, I mentioned that I felt very strongly the book was a guide to worshipping the creative self, and I felt spiritually demeaned and disrespected by being forced to read it. The teacher's reply was that, as a college student, I should be open-minded and that she's never had a complaint like that for this book, so my accusation is essentially baseless. However, she did tell me I could do my readings out of the ENG219 (Advanced Creative Writing) book if it would make me more comfortable. I'm already halfway through Bones, though; jumping into another book would only mean more work while I try to catch up. Still, it's something I may end up doing. If I really feel strongly about this, then extra work is a small price to pay, right? Or is she right, that I'm not being open-minded about this? What do you think?

My Human Geography class is going well. I'm actually enjoying it. The content is very interesting, and there hasn't been a single mention of aliens or Atlantis or worshipping anything. I imagine that last will change once we get into the unit on religions, but I don't expect that the text will attempt to coerce me into choosing a new god or belief system.

Flying is also going well, more or less. Erin and I flew to Sierra Vista yesterday morning, so I could practice some instrument approaches over there. I flew my first real-life (I'd already done them in the simulator) ILS approaches, and they went really well. I also flew a Localizer approach that went well. I see my mid-stage check on the horizon, and it makes me think I might really make it through this rating, after all.

Jen's friend Carmen took some pictures of us last Friday. She's in a digital photography class, so she needed to take some pictures, and we needed some pictures taken because a Sunday school class at our AZ church is focusing on missions and missionaries, and they asked for our picture. So the three of us went over to the ramp and took some pictures with the airplanes. Many of them turned out really well. I expect Jenny will probably post some of them, sooner or later.

It's been a while since I've posted, and Kelly is requesting posts to read, so here we go. After I finished my Commercial 1 stage check (I think that's what my last post was about) I began working on my Instrument Rating, which means I'm now flying the Cessna 182. I MUST have my Instrument Rating finished by the end of this semester, which means I don't have time to really get a feel for the 182 before I start working on the Rating. The Instrument Rating is, obviously, all about flying IFR (Instrument Flight Rules) which means we're practicing flying solely by our instruments. This means that the vast majority of my time in the 182 is spent wearing a hood, a vision limiting device that keeps me from being able to see outside the airplane. So I'm trying to learn to fly the 182 while not being able to see outside the 182. It's kind of frustrating sometimes. But I'm doing better than I personally expected to, and better, I think, than my instructor expected me to. This just might work out, after all.

My classes started on Monday. I'm taking one classroom class and two online classes. I naively thought the online classes would be a little easier than a classroom class, which is why I took 2 of them. I was mistaken. They involve obscene amounts of reading, both from books and from the internet. It's taken me a few days to get used to them and sort of settle into them. Ultimately, I'd prefer to sit in a classroom a couple days a week. Lesson learned.

I started my job 2 weeks ago. I got a work study position in the aviation department. As a work study, I'm only allowed 16 hours per week, and 12 of them are scheduled for office work (mostly keeping up on the paperwork that keeps the FAA off our backs). The other 4 hours, however, are open hours for the weekend, so I can help the fueler/washers wash airplanes. Since the fueler/washers and I are all new to the job, we had to wash a plane last Thursday AND last Friday. It's much harder, physically, than I expected it to be, because we not only wash the planes, we also wax them. Even with 3 of us on the job, it still takes somewhere around 3 hours.

All told, between the new classes, the job, and the 182, this has been a hard week. It's been quite some time since I was actually busy on a daily basis, and I'm still trying to hit my stride. But the 182 is going to bring us one step closer to Africa, the job is going to pad our savings account for our Michigan Christmas trip, and the classes are giving me full-time status so I can keep pouring large amounts of financial aid into my flight account. It's all quite a change for me, but it's also all working for our good.

A Stranger in the House of Instrument

After a bit of a delay (Erin called me last night to tell me I'd been rescheduled to 9:45), I had my stage check this morning. Despite a little bit of trouble with my commercial maneuvers, I still passed, with the assurance that my flying is right at the appropriate level, if not a little beyond that. So now I'm on to my Instrument Rating, and the Cessna 182. Thanks for your prayers, and thanks be to God, who accomplishes His will in spite of our doubts and insecurities.

The Big Test

My Commercial 1 stage check is this Wednesday at 8:15am (11:15 Michigan time). It will involve successfully performing some fairly difficult maneuvers, but passing it means I can focus almost exclusively on my Instrument Rating, which I MUST finish before the end of this semester. Please, please pray for me, that I would be able to satisfactorily answer the questions and perform the maneuvers asked of me.

Humdrum

I've been kinda out of it lately, when it comes to Blogger (and Livejournal). The thought of blogging has just lost its appeal for me, and I'm not sure why. I was taking a walk tonight (just got back), and I found myself thinking about writing a post (with pictures) about my flight bag. When I first started out on here, I was all excited about passing along the stuff I was learning, and generally any sort of aviation-relating thing I found interesting. I've gotten pretty far away from that in the last months, so I think I'm going to try to get back into it by posting about my flight bag: what it's all about, what's in it, why I've chosen those particular items, etc. Maybe this all sounds terrible arrogant or something, but the truth is, I find flight bags in general really interesting. Maybe some of the rest of you do or will, too (I'm thinking, though, that most of the gals who read the post will say something like, "Oh, it's like a big (or in some cases, not so big) purse for pilots"). Anyway, keep an eye out for that post. It'll be coming soon.

Phoenix and Back Again

Here are the pictures I took on my cross-country yesterday. As always, clicking on them will enlarge them.


I know I've done this picture before, but it bore repeating. This is what my instruments look like in flight.

I took this because I was curious what I look like when I'm flying. Apparently the answer is, "scary and intense."

This is the town of San Manuel. I thought the layout of the town was interesting. It's far less square than most towns I fly over.

This is Coolidge Airport. It was my final checkpoint before I ventured under Phoenix's airspace and into Gateway's airspace.

This was the view just behind Coolidge. It was an eerie thing to behold, after spending a year flying over round fields.

For reasons I just don't understand, some people actually enjoy playing golf. I will admit, though, that golf courses are very pretty from the air.

And, finally, this is Benson Airport. I actually had a much better shot of this airport all lined up, and then I accidentally hit the camera's power button and lost it.

Well, that's it. I hope you enjoyed them. They're the last ones I'll be taking for a while.

Victory in Jesus!!!

I'm back! My commercial 1 cross-countries are now a thing of the past! And this morning's trip went spectacularly! The only reason for it that I can come up with is that I was praying hard, and a lot of people were praying along with me. Thank you to all those people. God was, and is, faithful.

Incidentally, I managed to snap a few pictures, mostly between here and Phoenix. They'll probably be showing up on here before too long.

Thanks again to everyone who prayed for my safety and success.

Weather permitting, tomorrow morning at 6:45 (9:45 Michigan time) I'll be leaving for my final cross-country of commercial stage one. It's also, arguably, the most difficult cross-country I've had to fly yet. I would greatly appreciate prayer.

Leftovers

Here are a few other pictures I took yesterday on my way home from Sierra Vista.


The building with the blue front towards the center of the picture, is a restaurant in Sierra Vista called My Place. It's really good.


This is the San Jose area of Bisbee. The main road cutting through it is Highway 92, and First Baptist is visible on the right.

And, finally, this is the Warren area of Bisbee. The big hill behind the town is a tailings dump from the old copper mines.

That's all for pictures until my cross-country tomorrow morning. Hope you enjoyed them!

Church, at 7,500 MSL

As I was overflying Bisbee on my way home from Sierra Vista Thursday morning, I noticed that I fly right over First Baptist, which is where we go to church now. So I decided to take a couple pictures on the way back from my solo this morning. The church is the blue-roofed building in the center of the pictures. As always, clicking on the pictures will enlarge them. Enjoy!

Difficult Decision

As I mentioned earlier today, I went and registered for my Fall classes. One is a classroom class, and two are online courses (most of the interesting-sounding classes were only offered on the Sierra Vista campus, so I had to make due with Douglas classes and online classes). I was reasonably happy with my choices. Then I talked to Erin while we were flying this afternoon. She warned me that the guy who teaches one of the online classes is a real jerk. Apparently, he really likes to pick out two or three students from every class to shamelessly pick on and otherwise make miserable. So now I have another choice. I can either drop this particular class and replace it with one of my other choices (sort of a first runner-up situation), or I can just stick with the class and hope I'm not one of the unlucky few who are chosen.

Wasted Semester?

In just a few minutes I'll be heading over to the one-stop to register for my Fall classes: three classes I need to take in order to receive my full financial aid, but don't need for my degree. I still have mixed feelings about this coming semester. On the one hand, it feels like I'm wasting a semester, since I'm not taking anything aviation-related, except for my flying. On the other hand, it will give me a chance to get all caught up before I go after my Flight Instructor certificate. I'm mostly just afraid that I won't commit myself to these classes and I'll hurt my GPA. We'll see, I guess.

Ground School

In my last post, I mentioned a near-incident I had, involving some power lines, but I never really went into details. I've decided to go into details now, but to fully appreciate what I'm telling you, I have to start with a little bit of private pilot ground school (plus I'm eager to try out my explanation of density). I'll try to keep it from getting overly technical. Here we go.

Air density is, essentially, how many air molecules you'll find in a given parcel of air. For instance, if you could jump up to 10,000 feet MSL (mean seal level) and snatch up a one-inch by one-inch by one-inch cube of air, it would have a certain number of air molecules. That's the air's density. The air becomes progressively less dense the higher you go, because there's progressively less pressure pushing those molecules together. Think of a really thick book laying on its back on a table. The last page of the book is under more pressure than the first page of the book, because it has all the other pages pressing down on it, whereas the first page of the book has no other pages pressing down on it. Same thing with the air: the air down low is more dense because it's under more pressure due to all the air above it pushing down on it. However, other factors can also affect the density of the air. High temperatures, for instance, cause the air molecules to expand, causing air to become less dense. Your 1x1x1 cube of air now has fewer molecules in it because they expanded and some were pushed outside of your box. When we have a really hot day (and we have plenty!), the air at ground level expands to such a degree that it ends up having the density of air we'd normally find, say, 3,000 or 3,500 feet above the ground. We call this "density altitude." It means, not how high the air is, but how high the air is acting. The ground here at the school is about 4,000 feet MSL so, in the situation I just described, the density altitude would be 7,500 feet MSL. The air at 4,000' is acting like the air would at 7,500'. This is not usually a good thing. In fact, I struggle to think of a scenario where high density altitude would be beneficial to anyone. I digress.

Air density, and thus density altitude, directly affects the airplane's performance. The propeller works, essentially, by grabbing and pushing off against those air molecules, so if there are fewer air molecules for the propeller to push against (like if we're at a high altitude, or if we have a high density altitude), then the propeller's not as effective. If the propeller's not as effective, then you can't climb as fast or as high (or, sometimes, at all) as you would be able to in denser air.

All that said, here's what happened on my flight Monday. There are power lines a pretty good distance off the departure end of runway 5. They're far enough away from the runway that they aren't typically a factor for us when we take off. However, by 3:30 in the afternoon, it's good and hot here and, accordingly, the density altitude is nice and high, which means it takes us longer and farther to take off, and longer and farther to climb up to a safe altitude. On my very first landing, I came in a bit fast, which meant I didn't actually touch the ground until I was close to halfway down the runway. So when I added power to take back off, I didn't have much runway to work with. Had I been alert to how much runway I'd already used up, I could have done a short-field takeoff, which would have made everything okay. But I didn't. I did a normal takeoff, and didn't get very far off the ground before I ran out of runway, which meant I was sort of skimming the desert floor as I struggled to climb out in the distressingly un-dense air. I felt like I was doing okay, because there were no close mountains or anything else for me to collide with, but then I saw the power lines in front of me. They were still a fair distance ahead, but I wasn't making much progress in climbing, so I started to wonder a little. Then I started to worry a little. Then I asked Erin if we were going to hit the power lines. After a moment of tense (for me, at least) silence, she finally answered that no, we should be okay. And we were, but I sweated until we were physically over and clear of the lines. The experience did its job, though; I learned my lesson and did mostly short-field takeoffs for the rest of the lesson.

And that's the story of the near-incident involving power lines. It should be stated, though, for the sake of establishing the severity of the situation, that Erin's opinion is that 1)hitting the power lines would probably have killed us, and 2)there's really nothing we can do in a situation like that to avoid hitting them, if we're pointed at them and unable to climb any faster. Thanks to everyone who prays for my safety!

P.S.- I would appreciate any feedback regarding the clarity and/or understandability of my explanation of air density. Thanks!

The Return of Flyboy!

I just got back from my first flight period in two weeks. It went really well, except for a near-incident involving some power lines. I had a really good attitude and felt I flew the plane very well, and my landings were pretty decent, especially for having not done one in two weeks. Erin and I are flying to Sierra Vista on Wednesday, and I'll probably do a local solo on Thursday morning. I'm gearing up for my last cross-country before my commercial 1 stage check. Exciting!

One pic

It's too hot to post much (I know that doesn't really make sense, but trust me), but I wanted to get a pic online ASAP. It was taken during one of the highlights of our trip. Enjoy.

The Difference Between Michigan and Arizona

The news teaser on TV a little bit ago gave us this gem of a quote: "Rain in the middle of June. What's up with that?"

Holy Smokes!!!

I jokingly told Jenny, this morning, that I was going to dazzle the aviation staff by getting a perfect score on my commercial knowledge test this afternoon. Turns out I was almost right. I missed one question, out of 103. Not too shabby.

Today is the day I take the FAA commercial pilot knowledge test. I don't know why, but I pretty nervous about it. I know the study guide inside and out, and I only missed one out of 70 on my commercial ground training final exam. This thing is in the bag!

Here's an update I forgot to make, regarding the chick I'd previously rescued, twice. It's dead. The morning after I put it back in its nest the second time, we found it on the ground, expired. At least I tried.

It stormed here during the night. That's pretty exciting news for Douglas. It's the first rain we've seen in over a month, and we needed it desperately. It's still pretty cloudy out, so maybe we'll get more moisture before the day is done.

Final

I just got home from taking my commercial ground training final exam. I don't know my exact score yet, but it seemed pretty easy, so I'm guessing an A. I'll find out for sure tomorrow and, assuming I passed, I'll also make my appointment to take the FAA commercial knowledge test. I'll probably end up taking it on Monday. I just hope, when I do take it, I'm not too distracted by the thought of heading for Michigan on Wednesday. We have to be up to get ready at 1:00 in the morning!!!

Micro-Update 2

Chick = back in nest.

Josh = Incurable hero complex.

At a Loss

The other day, Jen noticed that a chick had fallen out of its nest. Now, for the sake of not incriminating myself, I'm not going to mention the type of bird this chick happened to be. What I will tell you is that I put on a dirty, old pair of gloves and helped the chick back into its nest. Problem solved. Well, now the stupid chick has fallen out of its nest again. The fact of the matter is that five chicks is just too many for this nest, and it seems inevitable now that at least one of them is probably going to keep falling out. The chick is unhurt as far as I can tell, but I'm hesitant to put it back up there again. Truth be told, I don't have any clue what to do in this situation. Do I just let nature run its course and do nothing for the chick? Or do I go put it back again and wait for it to fall back out the next time? Any ideas would be helpful.

Micro-Update

I thought this was an interesting coincidence. This morning I posted about how much I like birds. This afternoon I knocked one out of the sky with my airplane.

Scoping Out Chicks

Thanks to my grandparents' influence in my early life, I've always enjoyed watching birds. Since moving to Arizona last Summer, I've become pretty near obsessed with watching swallows. They're fascinating! This nest of little guys is at the base of our stairwell, so I get to see them every day, usually multiple times a day. Only 4 chicks are visible, but there are actually 5 who live there. I really like them. Last year, there was a nest with 3 chicks in it by our stairwell. It was fun to watch them grow up and eventually fly away. I'm excited to see these little guys do the same. This post actually brings up an interesting question Jenny raised the other day. I've been calling baby swallows chicks, but are all baby birds really called chicks? If anyone knows, please feel free to answer.

8 Random Facts

I've apparently been tagged, which means I have to come up with 8 little-known facts about me. I find myself at a slight disadvantage, since I more or less already did this when I filled out my Blogger profile. However, I just happen to be one of my favorite topics of discussion, and I'm disinclined to turn down opportunities to talk about such a fascinating topic, so here we go.

1) For a short time in the first half of this decade, I had electric blue hair.

2) I used to (and kind of still do) want to open a coffeehouse.

3) This is my fourth attempt at college.

4) I still fantasize (regularly) about becoming a superhero.

5) I have a small, underdeveloped third nipple a few inches below my left one.

6) I have a lifelong love of hats of all kinds, but I'm usually too self-conscious to wear any but a standard ball cap.

7) When I was a kid, I used to read multiple books at a time because it was like being able to change the channel when I got bored with one.

8) I can remember the most obscure names and lines in movies and literature, but I struggle to recall even general details from my own life.

There. That should do it. Now I'm supposed to tag 8 other people, but I don't thank I have any Blogger friends who haven't already been tagged. What I'm going to do instead is invite my readers who don't have their own blogs to leave comments on this post and reveal their 8 little-known facts. I'm talking about you, parents and parents-in-law.

Bird's Eye View

(As always, click on the pictures to enlarge them.)
Here are some pictures from Friday's cross-country. This is the airport in Willcox. It's called Cochise County Airport.

This isn't really anything specific. I just thought it looked pretty.

I forgot the name of this body of water, and I'm too lazy to look it up right now. I will say, though, that it kept me from becoming very lost on the first leg of my journey.

And here are some more of those round fields. A lot more. Also, I'm pretty sure those shiny things are solar panels. I think they're the first ones I've seen on any of my flights.

Where Credit is Due

I feel like I don't give God the credit/glory He deserves in my life. He's certainly got some coming for my cross-country yesterday. As I was dealing with the clouds and the turbulence and stuff, I kept praying, "God, help me." And He did. Most of my trip was remarkably free of turbulence. He enabled me to get oriented when the clouds put me off-course, and He gave me a path back home. I asked Him to keep the clouds away from the college so I could get back and land safely, and He did. I didn't have to fly around any clouds after I got situated on my new course. I asked Him to keep the clouds from developing into thunderstorms, and He did. And, despite my final landing being ugly and as un-graceful as any landing could ever be, it was also a safe landing that didn't result in damage to me or the airplane or the runway. And that was God, too. So all the glory and all the credit for a successful cross-country belongs to God, and to Him alone.

Post-Flight Date

Oh, yeah, and then after I got back from flying, we went and saw Shrek the Third. It was very good. I laughed a lot. It may not have been as funny as it seemed at the time, but I had tons of leftover tension I needed to get rid of. Laughing did the trick for me. The movie really was enjoyable, though. One of the highlights of the experience happened about 2/3 of the way through the movie, and didn't actually involve the film at all. There were a little boy and little girl with their parents (I'm guessing) sitting off to our left a ways. Suddenly, I heard the boy cough a bit, and then I heard a splash. And then the little girl said, very loudly, "Did he just throw up on my shoes?!" It was hilarious! What wasn't so funny was when, a short time later, the puke smell finally wafted over to us and stayed with us for pretty much the rest of the movie. There were quite a few people there, and we weren't sure how much longer the movie was, so finding new seats seemed like a whole lot of effort. In the end, we alternated between breathing into our hands and breathing into the collars of our shirts. Still, though, it was a good movie and I'm glad we went.

Forty Miles West

I finally flew my cross-country yesterday morning. It wasn't my best cross-country, but it was mostly okay. I made 3 landings in the course of the flight, and 2 of them were pretty bad. I think I was just really tensed up, and it caused me to over-control the plane in the flare. Also, on the last leg of my flight, I encountered some cumulus clouds. Flying under cumulus clouds is like saying, "I sure do love flying through turbulence." Not a great idea. So I flew around the clouds, which put me about 40 miles off-course and resulted in my spontaneously selecting a new course home. What's remarkable, and I truly praise God for this, is that there was only a very brief period where I didn't know where I was. Despite flying over unpopulated, rocky terrain with very few obvious landmarks, I was able to figure out where I was and successfully choose a path that took me safely back to the college. That's an amazing thing! Thank-you to everyone who was (and is) praying for me. Your prayers were answered.

Now I only have one cross-country left before I can finish commercial stage 1. Unfortunately, it's a doozie of a flight, under-flying Phoenix's airspace and landing at a large, towered airport with 3 parallel runways. On the bright side, I don't have to deal with it until next Friday at the earliest.

Last Post of the Day... Maybe

I think I somehow forgot to mention that Jen and I are heading back to Michigan for a week in June. Shame on me! Jen and I are heading back to Michigan for a week in June. Now you know.

The Horse

And now my pity party is officially done. It's time to get back on the horse. I just called Erin and asked her to dispatch me for another local solo tomorrow morning. I'm going to work on takeoffs and landings again. And I'll keep working on them until I regain my confidence. Yeah.

Failure

I was sitting in Erin's office this morning, filling out my flight plan and expecting to be taking off in the next 20 minutes. Everything was looking good, except for my confidence level. After talking to Erin about my fears, we decided it was probably best for me to pass on the cross-country today. Erin told me to do a local solo instead, and to stay up as long as I wanted working on maneuvers and things. I wound up spending all of about 30 minutes in the air. As I started my takeoff roll, I realized I hadn't been in a plane by myself since my last cross-country flight. That flight took place over a month ago and, if you'll recall, it was a difficult, frightening flight for me. Since keeping a plane in the air is much easier than safely putting it back on the ground, I decided to start my solo time with some touch-and-go's. I did five in all, a couple good ones and a couple bad ones. Then I decided that was long enough for my first solo in a month. And from the moment I taxied off the runway, I felt like a colossal failure. In fact, I'm sitting here typing this and still feeling like a colossal failure. In the end, though, I suppose it's better to call off a cross-country I don't feel good about, than to force myself to go and make a foolish and dangerous mistake because I'm all nerved up. Thanks to everyone who prayed for me, especially my father-in-law. Thanks, Terry. Your assurance that you'd be praying for me meant a lot to me.

Jenny asked me to update, so here goes. Assuming the weather forecast doesn't dramatically change overnight (and that the actual weather tomorrow morning turns out something like the forecast), I'm flying one of my last two cross-countries of the semester. I'll be going to Globe, AZ and to Holbrook, AZ. Erin and I flew over to Bisbee-Douglas International this afternoon to get me a little practice landing somewhere other than the college. It was a good learning experience, but also a little frightening. The air does strange things around here when it starts getting hot, and it's very hard to predict just how the air's strangeness is going to affect your airplane. For instance, I was just coming over the end of the runway, maybe 20 or less in the air, getting ready to set down on the runway. Everything was looking good, and then, very suddenly, we hit a weird air pocket that rocked the plane pretty hard. We instantly found outselves swinging sideways. I wound up putting in full throttle and aborting the landing, and everything was fine. But the experience certainly accelerated my heart rate.

Anyhow, please ask God to grant me skill and safety for my cross-country tomorrow morning. Thank you.

SPIDER-MAN 3 SPIDER-MAN 3 SPIDER-MAN 3!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay. Now that's out of my system. Wait, no it's not. SPIDER-MAN 3 SPIDER-MAN 3 SPIDER-MAN 3 SPIDER-MAN 3!!!!!!!!!!!

Right. Okay. Better now. As you may or may not have already guessed, Jen and I are going to see Spider-Man 3 today. The theater in Sierra Vista had not 1, not 2, not 3, but 4 midnight showings last night. Jenny gave me the choice of going alone last night, or waiting til this afternoon and going with her. Hopefully, everyone will still be in work this afternoon, so we won't be crammed into a packed-out theater. Also, we'll get matinee prices (movie tickets are pretty expensive here).

Speaking of Spider-Man, our niece, Mady, is apparently looking for a radioactive spider so she can coax it into biting her and making her into Spider-Girl. On the outside, I laugh and say, "Oh, how silly little children are." On the inside, I'm wondering if she'd let me borrow that spider when she's done with it.

Remember when I first started posting on Blogger, and I was always talking about my training? Well, It's been a while, so I should probably say something about my training. We're in the summer months now, which means two things: wind and turbulence. You can't appreciate the turbulence here unless you've flown in it. Since I, until about a month ago, flew early in the morning, I never had a chance to really experience wind or turbulence. As a result, I'm now trying to get myself accustomed to both, especially during takeoffs and landings. The problem is that I find it very nerve-wracking to take off and land in these conditions, so I usually wimp out after 2 landings. Yesterday, for instance, Erin and I went up. Just after my first takeoff, we hit a wicked bit of turbulence. The nose of the plane started swinging back and forth pretty hard. After two landings, I was ready to call it quits. But then, as I was tying the plane down, I realized I need to stop wimping out and just learn to handle it. As I was debriefing in Erin's office, we talked out that a bit, and she told me during summer break we're going to fly from 12:15 until 3:30 every day. She was sort of kidding, but I told her that would be okay with me. I need to quit being a fairweather pilot and work my way through turbulence and crosswind training.

I was supposed to fly a cross-country this morning, but the forecast was calling for pretty severe winds today, so I decided against attempting to repeat my last cross-country (not the route of flight, but the near-emergency conditions). Tomorrow is supposed to be more of the same, so I guess I'll try that flight again next weekend. I really need to get these last two flights knocked out before June 7 so I can take my stage check for commercial stage 1.

My Flying Groupies

While my parents were here, they got 2 opportunities to see me fly. The first day, I was only up long enough to fly 2 patterns because the wind and the turbulence were pretty strong. The second day was better, and I did 5 patterns before I called it quits. Here are some pictures of that second day.



This is me unchaining the airplane. We chain them up when we're not using them, so the wind doesn't flip them over.

This is me taking off, or possibly flying a low approach (I did one to show off a little bit for my parents).

This is me taxiing back in at the end of my flight.

Here I am standing on the wing like a goober, because Jenny was eager to take my picture.

And here I am with my parents and Erin after my flight. Jenny would be in the picture, too, but someone had to snap the picture. I told my mom I'd Photoshop her eyes open, but I don't actually know how to do that. Sorry, mom.

Clarification

I just wanted to clarify, regarding my last post, that we all had a great time at Tombstone. The only lame part of the whole day was the reenactment. The other 6.5 hours we spent at Tombstone were actually quite enjoyable. I recommend the place to anyone who might be passing through southern Arizona. I would just advise those people to think long and hard about seeing the reenactment.

Tombstone

It's taken me a bit longer than expected to get around to this, but I'm finally going to talk about and post pics of our visit to Tombstone.

This is Big Nose Kate's Saloon, where we ate lunch. It's named after Big Nose Kate, who was, of course, Doc Holliday's lady friend. It was a pretty cool place. They had employees dressed in Old West costumes, which was cool and not-so-cool at the same time. Cool, because it's always cool to see people dressed in Old West clothes. Not-so-cool, because the waitresses were all dressed like, well, saloon girls, so there was a lot of cleavage all over the place.

This is my dad, not looking like he's having much fun at the Saloon. I decided I needed to help him have more fun...

...So I asked this guy to hold him at gunpoint. Whoopee!!!

I found this picture funny. You've got the stage coach and the horses and the cowboy up top. It's all very Western-ish... except that the cowboy is chatting on his cell phone.

This is Jenny showing off her herculean strength by taking my parents for a carriage ride. You'll notice my mom is whipping Jenny with the reins, apparently because the poor girl just isn't generating the speed my mom was desiring. My mom's a pretty ruthless lady.
This is a picture I took at the "Shootout at the O.K. Corral" reenactment. It would be cruel of me if I didn't give you a word of warning regarding this reenactment. First, they make you pay to see it. Then they only do it once a day, so you have to hang out all day to see it if you get there too soon (that's what we did). Then they finally let you in, and you sit down with high hopes, and they try their level best to crush your hopes into oblivion. It's an awful show. Just awful. They almost make it into a poorly-scripted, poorly-acted comedy. As Jenny has said more than once, "Just rent the movie Tombstone, instead." Also, you'll notice that they misspelled "photographer" in the sign on the green building. Lame.

At the end of our day in Tombstone (it really was the end of the day; we spent 7 hours there), we went to Boothill.

This is where the "bad guys" from the O.K. Corral were buried. Most of the tombstones and other grave markers have been replaced by metal ones, but as far as I know they were put in all the original locations. This is, to the best of my knowledge, the very spot where these guys were actually buried. What's interesting is the huge number of "Unknown" grave markers throughout the cemetery. I'm guessing it's either because the graves were never marked, or because the original markers were so worn that the restorers couldn't read them.

And that's the end of our trip to Tombstone. Hope you enjoyed it!

Jenny

Here are a few pictures of my beautiful wife that I wanted to share. The first two are of Jen opening and trying on the headset that I bought her. Now, when I finally get to renting a plane this Fall (when the winds and turbulence die down) Jen can have her very own headset in the plane. (Don't worry; I bought her a couple other things, too, so she didn't get totally shafted on birthday presents.)

The last picture is one I took of Jen coming through a set of old-time saloon doors in Tombstone. I thought it looked really cool in sepia tones. Man, I've got a hot wife! (Interesting side note regarding those doors: Moments after the sepia picture was taken, I accidentally broke the right-hand door!)

I'm starting with this picture, mostly so Kara can see what Jen and I were talking about. This photo was intended to be a nice pic of my parents sitting on a cool bench (note the horses on the top) in Tombstone. But take a moment to really study it, and you'll start to find the humor in it. Enjoy!

P.S. Sorry, mom and dad.

My parents headed home today, after arriving last Saturday and spending a week visiting us here in sunny AZ. My dad called a little while ago, to let me know they'd made it back to MI safely. We did some fun stuff while they were here. Details and photos will be coming soon, I promise.

My mom and my father-in-law both commented on my last post, telling me they have been and will continue praying for my safety in the air. Thank you both.

My parents will be arriving in Arizona on Saturday for one week of sunshine and friendly weather, before returning to Michigan (could you hear the disgust in my voice when I said "Michigan"?) on the following Saturday. We plan to show them some of the tourist attractions in southeast Arizona, like Tombstone, that we haven't even been to ourselves yet.

Friday is Jenny's birthday. I've got a special special special super-special birthday date planned for her. I can't give you any more details until after the date, because she has no idea what we'll be doing and I don't want to ruin the surprise.

It's been crazy-windy here all week, so I haven't been in the air since Friday's educational cross-country. I've spent four flight periods in a row, in the simulator. Yesterday I got very frustrated with it. I'm having a lot of difficulty grasping instrument procedures (despite the fact that I passed my instrument rating FAA test yesterday), and it's getting to me. Today is looking like another simulator day, so I've got one last chance this week to do it well.

A Flight Full of Hard Lessons

I flew a cross-country yesterday morning. It was one of those flights that will probably hold a place in my memory til the day I die. (As I was typing the words "til the day I die" I suddenly thought that I would probably continue to remember after I died, and then I had a mental image of me telling this story to Silas or Timothy or someone in Heaven.) The forecast was for decent weather and acceptable wind velocities until around noon. I was scheduled to leave the ground at no later than 6:30, so I was counting on plenty of time to complete my flight. My route was from the college to Deming, New Mexico, where I would overfly the field bound for Truth or Consequences. I'd do a touch-and-go at T or C, then backtrack to Deming and land for fuel before heading back home. Another student, Ryan, was scheduled to make the same flight yesterday morning, and he was at the airport getting his plane ready the same time I was. Everything was looking fine.

My first problem came as soon as I opened the cockpit door and noticed someone had left the master switch on. The master switch controls the electronics in the plane. Leaving it on is much like leaving your car's headlights on: eventually your battery is going to die. Sure enough, 2143Y had a dead battery. The other two Cherokees were already signed out, so if I couldn't get a jump, I wouldn't be flying my cross-country. I called Erin, and she made a couple calls and got someone to jump the plane for me. The plane got started, but waiting for a jump put me behind schedule. I didn't get off the ground until right around 7:00. The flight to Deming wasn't bad. The air was getting a little bumpy, but I thought I could handle it. And then I listened to the Deming ASOS (weather report). The winds were already a little stronger than forecast, but I'd already flown well over an hour. I didn't want to abort the flight, so I kept going, bound for T or C. I got there without incident, flew a pretty decent traffic pattern, and got myself all set up to land. I was tense, though, because I was going to be landing with a fairly substantial crosswind. I came across the end of the runway and began my flare. However, due to my tension, I overflared and the plane lifted back up. Not good. Not good at all. I pushed the nose back down, waited a second, then attempted to reflare. The plane, though, decided not to level off and I slammed into the ground pretty hard and, since I was holding quite a bit of back pressure on the yoke, the plane jumped back into the air. Then it slammed into the ground a second time and bounced back up. Not entirely sure how to remedy the situation, I added some power, hoping it wound bring the plane to the ground and leave it there. No dice. The power aggravated the situation. All told, I think I slammed into the ground 4 or 5 times before I got it under control. I was torn between adding power and take back off, or taxiing off the runway and inspecting the plane for damage. Maybe it was my imagination, but the plane seemed to be leaning to the left, which made me afraid I'd wrecked my left strut or blown my left tire. I decided, though, to attempt to take back off, so I added power and the plane responded by beginning to shimmy. I was close to the end of the runway at this point, so I cut the power, stood on my brakes, and taxiied off. I got to the ramp, shut down, and took a look at all 3 struts and tires. None of them looked damaged in any obvious way, so my choices were call Erin and sit in Truth or Consequences for however many hours it would take for someone to pick me up and recover the plane, or take off and hope everything was really okay. I took back off. The plane seemed a little shaky, but I think it was just the crosswind, which had only gotten stronger. I flew back to Deming for my fuel stop, fully expecting someone to radio me and let me know I was only flying with 2 wheels on my plane. I was also pretty concerned about my landing in Deming. The wind direction and runway layout guaranteed me I wouldn't be facing much of a crosswind. My fears were rooted completely in my recent crow-hopping experience. I knew I would only be more afraid of landing again, now that I had completely (and dangerously) botched my first one, and my fear was only going to add to more mistakes. On top of that, I wasn't completely sure my landing gear would hold through a second landing, since I couldn't be certain I hadn't damaged it in T or C. I checked ASOS again and discovered the wind was indeed getting stronger and gustier. And the rising outside air temperature had made the turbulence a little stronger than I was completely comfortable with. I considered skipping Deming and heading home, but doing that would have put me at serious risk of running out of fuel before I got home. Deming was now a necessary evil. Fear aside, I made an excellent landing at Deming (seriously, it was beautiful), taxiied to the ramp, shut down, tied down, and headed for the FBO office. I turned on my cell phone to let Jen know I'd made it to Deming safely, and noticed I had a voice mail. It was Erin. She'd called to let me know that the forecast wasn't looking good, and I should make haste to get back home. I called her back to let her know where things stood: I'd make a horrible mess of a landing in Truth or Consequences, I was well behind schedule, I was facing a bit of a wait for fuel (the FBO guy was trying, unsuccessfully to get the fuel truck started, and I was second in line for gas), and even under optimal conditions my planned route back home was going to take me at least an hour and a half. Erin suggested I figure out a new route that would be closer to a straight line back, instead of the longer, more squared-off route I'd planned. She also let me know that I should keep my options open and, if the winds were too strong at the college, I should divert to Bisbee Douglas International and land there. The FBO, thankfully, had free New Mexico state aeronautical charts that I'd be able to use to figure out that more direct route. (I had the proper charts for my intended route, but not for a straight-line route, and flying without a chart would put me in danger of wandering into Mexico.) The fuel truck finally started, the guy ahead of me got fueled, and then my plane got gassed up. As quickly as I could, I went over my charts and figured out the best way back, did my taxi and runup, and took back off. My new route took me through the San Simon Valley, which is a narrow valley between two mountain ranges. Turbulence tends to always be worse around mountains, so I was extremely uncomfortable flying through this valley, but my alternative was to fly my original route and give the winds even more time to become unworkable. I chose the valley. The turbulence was terrible, and I prayed and feared for my life my whole flight back. In my fear, I couldn't figure out why I was getting such poor performance out of the plane. I was almost red-lining my tachometer, but I was only getting 85-90 on my airspeed indicator (normal is anywhere from 95-105). (I realized, after the flight, that it was because I was flying near the upper limits of the Cherokee's climb abilities, and I had a high density altitude because of the high air temp, which decreases the plane's performance.) I eventually got back to the college and overflew the windsock so I could see what I was up against. What I saw didn't inspire confidence. The sock was completely horizontal, and it was showing an almost-direct crosswind. I knew Bisbee Douglas International had a runway that would turn that bad, bad crosswind into a much better headwind, but I've had bad landing experiences at BDI, and I felt sure that the wind and the turbulence and the bad memories would all work together to guarantee a damaged plane or a damaged Josh, or both. And a final landing at a field other than the college wouldn't have necessarily been a good thing for me or my instructor. I was going to land at the college, no matter what, I decided. I entered the downwind leg of my traffic pattern and had a brutal time holding my altitude. Then I reduced my power at the proper time and had a hard time regulating my descent. I fought the plane all the way to final approach and ended up about 200 feet in the air as I crossed the threshold. That's way too high for landing. Any other time, I might have attempted to lose altitude with a forward slip, but I was already feeling pretty gutsy just trying to land. I wasn't up for an attempt at slipping. I decided to go around and try again, so I added full power and tried to climb out... and nothing happened. My engine roared with power, but I couldn't get the plane to climb beyond about 4500 feet. Traffic pattern altitude is 5000 feet, so I had a problem. I leveled off as best I could, in order to gain some airspeed that I could use to climb, and I retracted one notch of flaps. It worked, to some extent, and I eventually got back up to 5000' just in time to reduce power and start my descent again. This time the plane gave up altitude too easily, and I had to add power just to make it to the runway. But I was determined to not go around again, so I did the best I could with what I had. As I was just about to begin my flare, I noticed that two people were standing just off the left side of the runway. If I screwed up my landing and came in too far to the left, and they didn't move in time, I could injure or kill them. Not good. I pulled on the yoke to begin my flare and found myself overflaring again, just like in Truth or Consequences. REALLY not good. I let the nose back down a little and forced myself to focus on smaller control corrections, which resulted in a fairly decent, albeit slightly slanted, landing. However, as soon as my wheels met the asphalt, they gripped pretty well and straightened my nose out. I taxiied off the runway, breathing thanks to God all the way to the ramp.

I found out when I got back that Ryan, the other student who was scheduled to make the same flight, had decided against going. Probably a very wise decision, all things considered. Yeah, I got the cross-country done and I can cross it off my list, but it was a very frightening experience. Here's something interesting I wanted to share, though. As I was flying my downwind leg on my second attempt at landing at the college, I was fearing for my life and praying again, and a sudden thought popped into my head: God isn't killing a student; He's shaping a pilot. Whether that was the Holy Spirit or just wishful thinking I'm not sure. I do know, though, that I learned quite a bit from that flight and my experiences will certainly make me a better pilot.