More later.....
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Friday, March 11, 2011
Writing a Book
My father wrote a book. It was about the life, and ultimately, death, of my younger sister, Elizabeth. He tried to get it published, but was rejected. "Too personal", they said. So following his death in 2008, I paid to have it published at an on-demand publisher - that is one that the author pays for, and the publisher only prints when they have orders. That keeps the costs down, and allows very small runs.I doubt this will ever be a best seller, but any money it makes will go to leukemia research.
Click here to see Dad's book on Amazon.com
Sunday, March 6, 2011
This is a cool story.....
I used to pass this memorial several times a year - I always stopped to read the text. But I didn't know the back story.
http://airlinepilotchatter.blogspot.com/2011/03/al-capone-and-chicago-ohare.html
http://airlinepilotchatter.blogspot.com/2011/03/al-capone-and-chicago-ohare.html
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Hell of a Trip
I was supposed to fly from Dallas Forth Worth to Atlanta on Sunday evening to spend a day and a half meeting with a customer from France, then on Tuesday evening to flying Boston to meet a customer from Japan, do a video, and return Thursday.
My Sunday evening flight was at 7:10pm. Normally I leave my house right around 2 hours before departure, allowing 30 minutes to get to the airport, and the remainder to park, pass security, find the gate and something to read. So at 4pm, I was sitting in the parking lot of Kroger, waiting for Sally to come out, when my mobile phone rang. It was the airline, calling to tell me that my flight had been canceled, and I was now on the 5:30. I told the agent that I couldn't get to the airport in time, and she said "oh, never mind, that's just been canceled too!"
You may remember the winter storm that paralyzed Atlanta a few weeks ago. That was the one. The airlines started preemptively canceling flights the day before to avoid having their aircraft stuck at ATL.
I was re-booked on a flight early the next day, but before I went to bed, that one was canceled too. All Monday flights were canceled, and the airline said that they could get me to Atlanta Tuesday morning, which I explained was useless to me now, having missed the meeting, but that I still needed to get to Boston. No dice. My ticket said Atlanta first, so I was going to Atlanta, just in order to catch a flight to Chicago in order to get the one to Boston. I manged to talk the agent into giving me a later one so that it would only take me 14 hours to get to Boston, about the same average ground-speed as my own single engine airplane will do.
The next morning (Tuesday), things were looking up. The airline canceled the flight to Atlanta, but some kind soul put me on a direct flight to Boston, and in 1st class too! So I arrived in Boston Tuesday afternoon, got my rental car and headed to the office. Watching TV in the hotel that evening, the weather people were panicking, as the storm moving up from Atlanta was about to collide with a storm moving in from the great lakes area, and dump feet of snow on New England.
The next morning, the meeting had been canceled, and the office was closed. Snow fell hard all morning. I trudged over to the dining room to get breakfast, and wondering if I would be able to go anywhere for lunch, brought back some extra muffins to my room for later. Good job I did, the snow didn't stop until late afternoon, and my car was totally buried under 3 feet of snow.
The rental car company had kindly provided me with a brush, and I had anticipated this and brought snow boots and clothes. So I was fairly comfortable as I started to sweep the snow off the car, but soon discovered how inadequate the brush was going to be, and walked to office to get a snow shovel.
After shoveling the snow from the sides and sweeping it off the roof and hood, snow slipped inside my glove. I took off my left one, shaking my hand as I did so, and felt my white gold wedding ring slip off from my finger, and fly into a 3 feet deep snow bank. I immediately started looking for it, but with no clue how far it had flown, and the snow so deep, it was like the proverbial needle in a haystack. I watched with sinking heart as a bobcat came by and scooped up the snow, and deposited it on a 10 foot tall snow bank on the other side of the parking lot.
Later that afternoon, I called Sally to tell her what had happened, and as expected, she was not happy at all. She accused me of not having actually looked for it (not true). But it was better to tell her right away, so that she would have time to cool down before I got home on Thursday. I ended up getting the car out, and driving 2,000 feet to a nearby restaurant for a lonely, cold dinner.
The next day was cold, but sunny. As is the norm in New England, despite close to 30" of new snow, all the roads were plowed and gritted, and traffic was running normally again. I went to the office, and did the video "filming" (no film, all digital), before heading to Logan airport to catch my flight back to Dallas. Fortunate my return flight was on time, the only part of this trip that went as planned.
My Sunday evening flight was at 7:10pm. Normally I leave my house right around 2 hours before departure, allowing 30 minutes to get to the airport, and the remainder to park, pass security, find the gate and something to read. So at 4pm, I was sitting in the parking lot of Kroger, waiting for Sally to come out, when my mobile phone rang. It was the airline, calling to tell me that my flight had been canceled, and I was now on the 5:30. I told the agent that I couldn't get to the airport in time, and she said "oh, never mind, that's just been canceled too!"
You may remember the winter storm that paralyzed Atlanta a few weeks ago. That was the one. The airlines started preemptively canceling flights the day before to avoid having their aircraft stuck at ATL.
I was re-booked on a flight early the next day, but before I went to bed, that one was canceled too. All Monday flights were canceled, and the airline said that they could get me to Atlanta Tuesday morning, which I explained was useless to me now, having missed the meeting, but that I still needed to get to Boston. No dice. My ticket said Atlanta first, so I was going to Atlanta, just in order to catch a flight to Chicago in order to get the one to Boston. I manged to talk the agent into giving me a later one so that it would only take me 14 hours to get to Boston, about the same average ground-speed as my own single engine airplane will do.
The next morning (Tuesday), things were looking up. The airline canceled the flight to Atlanta, but some kind soul put me on a direct flight to Boston, and in 1st class too! So I arrived in Boston Tuesday afternoon, got my rental car and headed to the office. Watching TV in the hotel that evening, the weather people were panicking, as the storm moving up from Atlanta was about to collide with a storm moving in from the great lakes area, and dump feet of snow on New England.
The next morning, the meeting had been canceled, and the office was closed. Snow fell hard all morning. I trudged over to the dining room to get breakfast, and wondering if I would be able to go anywhere for lunch, brought back some extra muffins to my room for later. Good job I did, the snow didn't stop until late afternoon, and my car was totally buried under 3 feet of snow.
The rental car company had kindly provided me with a brush, and I had anticipated this and brought snow boots and clothes. So I was fairly comfortable as I started to sweep the snow off the car, but soon discovered how inadequate the brush was going to be, and walked to office to get a snow shovel.
After shoveling the snow from the sides and sweeping it off the roof and hood, snow slipped inside my glove. I took off my left one, shaking my hand as I did so, and felt my white gold wedding ring slip off from my finger, and fly into a 3 feet deep snow bank. I immediately started looking for it, but with no clue how far it had flown, and the snow so deep, it was like the proverbial needle in a haystack. I watched with sinking heart as a bobcat came by and scooped up the snow, and deposited it on a 10 foot tall snow bank on the other side of the parking lot.
Later that afternoon, I called Sally to tell her what had happened, and as expected, she was not happy at all. She accused me of not having actually looked for it (not true). But it was better to tell her right away, so that she would have time to cool down before I got home on Thursday. I ended up getting the car out, and driving 2,000 feet to a nearby restaurant for a lonely, cold dinner.
The next day was cold, but sunny. As is the norm in New England, despite close to 30" of new snow, all the roads were plowed and gritted, and traffic was running normally again. I went to the office, and did the video "filming" (no film, all digital), before heading to Logan airport to catch my flight back to Dallas. Fortunate my return flight was on time, the only part of this trip that went as planned.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Echoed in the Sounds of Silence
Today is a double G&T day, just a "not-very-good" day of flying.
Marginal VFR. Well, it was. Now I'm in front of my keyboard, the sun is shining through a light haze on it's way to Western horizon. This afternoon, a burst of sun got me on my way to the airport for a few touch and goes just to keep my hand in. When I actually got there, the clouds had rolled back in. ATIS reported 1400 feet ceilings and 5 miles visibility. Not so good, but good enough for a little pattern work.
Pre-flight checks complete, I lined up at the runway, only to be scolded by the controller. It seems I TOLD him that I was going to stay in the pattern for some touch and goes, and he said I should have REQUESTED that I would stay in the pattern. I wrote that off as him having a bad day - normally he is very cooperative and easy to work with. A short silence, then "Roger 49C", and I received take off clearance.
After 4 or 5 circuits, I lined up on final approach with a sense of disquiet. Touching down, I realized that I hadn't heard a radio clearance to land. Glancing at the tower, I saw a solid red light - but I was already in take off mode and quite busy, it didn't register what that meant until I was airborne and realized my radios had failed.
As I climbed out, I pulled out the headset plugs and reinserted them, keyed the radio and heard the transmit static. I called the tower "McKinney Tower, 49 Charlie". "49 Charlie, McKinney Tower. Welcome back". "49C had radio problems, how do you read?". "Loud and clear 49C. You have 2 choices, you can land now or depart my airspace."
I decided to land, and told him so. He told me on final approach that if I wished I could fix my radios on the ground and then take off again, which I did. Once on the ground he had a conversation about what had happened. He told me he had called me several times. I told him I'd seen the red light but too late, he said he'd given me a green light (OK to Land - which I hadn't seen), then the red one (DO NOT TAKE OFF) on the runway, but I had seen it too late.
My problem fixed, I taxied back to the runway, and requested (this time) to remain in the pattern for some touch and goes. On climb out, I suggested that we could both use practice at no-radio procedures, and did a few circuits using the lights (called light guns), backed up by radio calls. I found the green hard to see from more than 3 miles way, but the red was clear as long as I was looking and expecting it. I did another 4 or 5 and called it a day, and the controller seemed to recover his normal personality.
Still, while the actual control over the aircraft was fine, my procedures need work. My first radio failure, and what did I do? I probably didn't land without clearance, but I did take off without clearance at least once. How long did it take until I noticed the Sound of Silence? Did I do it once, or twice?
Either way, Just Not Good Enough.
Marginal VFR. Well, it was. Now I'm in front of my keyboard, the sun is shining through a light haze on it's way to Western horizon. This afternoon, a burst of sun got me on my way to the airport for a few touch and goes just to keep my hand in. When I actually got there, the clouds had rolled back in. ATIS reported 1400 feet ceilings and 5 miles visibility. Not so good, but good enough for a little pattern work.
Pre-flight checks complete, I lined up at the runway, only to be scolded by the controller. It seems I TOLD him that I was going to stay in the pattern for some touch and goes, and he said I should have REQUESTED that I would stay in the pattern. I wrote that off as him having a bad day - normally he is very cooperative and easy to work with. A short silence, then "Roger 49C", and I received take off clearance.
After 4 or 5 circuits, I lined up on final approach with a sense of disquiet. Touching down, I realized that I hadn't heard a radio clearance to land. Glancing at the tower, I saw a solid red light - but I was already in take off mode and quite busy, it didn't register what that meant until I was airborne and realized my radios had failed.
As I climbed out, I pulled out the headset plugs and reinserted them, keyed the radio and heard the transmit static. I called the tower "McKinney Tower, 49 Charlie". "49 Charlie, McKinney Tower. Welcome back". "49C had radio problems, how do you read?". "Loud and clear 49C. You have 2 choices, you can land now or depart my airspace."
I decided to land, and told him so. He told me on final approach that if I wished I could fix my radios on the ground and then take off again, which I did. Once on the ground he had a conversation about what had happened. He told me he had called me several times. I told him I'd seen the red light but too late, he said he'd given me a green light (OK to Land - which I hadn't seen), then the red one (DO NOT TAKE OFF) on the runway, but I had seen it too late.
My problem fixed, I taxied back to the runway, and requested (this time) to remain in the pattern for some touch and goes. On climb out, I suggested that we could both use practice at no-radio procedures, and did a few circuits using the lights (called light guns), backed up by radio calls. I found the green hard to see from more than 3 miles way, but the red was clear as long as I was looking and expecting it. I did another 4 or 5 and called it a day, and the controller seemed to recover his normal personality.
Still, while the actual control over the aircraft was fine, my procedures need work. My first radio failure, and what did I do? I probably didn't land without clearance, but I did take off without clearance at least once. How long did it take until I noticed the Sound of Silence? Did I do it once, or twice?
Either way, Just Not Good Enough.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Aviation Radio Humor
On short final to land at McKinney airport, I heard the following exchange between the tower and a Cessna 140:
Tower: “Cessna 4GM, right downwind, you’re number 3 to land on runway 35, behind a Lear Jet on left base. Caution wake turbulence, you are cleared to land”
Cessna 4GM: “4GM, number 3 cleared to land, looking for the Lear”
In the meantime, I landed and was exiting the runway.
Cessna 4GM: “Tower, is that the Lear about to land?”
Tower: “The Lear’s on a 1/2 mile final”
4GM: “Oh, I wasn’t sure. Looks slow for a Lear”
Tower: “Well, see if you can catch him!”
Tower: “Cessna 4GM, right downwind, you’re number 3 to land on runway 35, behind a Lear Jet on left base. Caution wake turbulence, you are cleared to land”
Cessna 4GM: “4GM, number 3 cleared to land, looking for the Lear”
In the meantime, I landed and was exiting the runway.
Cessna 4GM: “Tower, is that the Lear about to land?”
Tower: “The Lear’s on a 1/2 mile final”
4GM: “Oh, I wasn’t sure. Looks slow for a Lear”
Tower: “Well, see if you can catch him!”
Friday, December 3, 2010
Head On!
No, it's not the annoying commercial on TV ("HEAD ON" For whatever HEAD ON is for! That you put ON YOUR HEAD!")
I had to make a fuel run last Saturday. I decided to do something a little different and NOT go to my usual pump at Sherman (KSWI). Instead, I loaded a new course on my Garmin 430W and headed for Gainsville, TX.
The sky was severe clear, temps in the low 60's, winds light and variable. I took off to the south, as is normal at McKinney, thanks to our mostly southerly surface flow, that keeps us warm in the winter and the white stuff up in Oklahoma. The tower had me do a right turn out for a Cessna coming up from the south east. With cooler temps and only 1 on board 49C lifted through 1,000 ft AGL as I turned northwest.
There was a little wind at altitude - the GPS ground speed was showing 130 kts, so I had a 15 kt tailwind. I decided to try the GPS approach into Gainsville, which was reporting runway 17 in use. On the way to Gainsville there are a couple of really tall radio towers near Pilots Point, nicely named, for the GPS pointed them out to me as we approached. The tallest is 1,999 ft AGL, or close to 2,800 ft MSL. I was cruising at 3,000, so I wasn't too concerned, but was reminded once more of the need for caution in that area.
I pulled out my new iPAD and loaded up the RNAV (GPS) RWY 17 approach plate. Passing the Initial Approach Fix (IAF) called AROSE, which is right on an oxbow section of the Red River, which separates Texas from Oklahoma, I made my first call on the common UNICOM frequency. Horrors! I heard another aircraft (a Cherokee) announce that he was over the airport, northbound at 3,000 feet to the NDB to enter the hold on the NDB 17 approach. Well, that would place him right where I wanted to be as I turned onto the final approach course, right at my height, and possibly right when I got there.
Nearing ILOPY, I made the executive decision to start descending early. The chart calls for 3,000 ft to ILOPY, then 2,500 until on the glide-slope (these are all minimums). I was already at 2,800 when I started my turn - technically busting minimums, but I decided that was better than a nose full of Cherokee. As it happened, I was already on the glide-slope at 2,500 ft when the Cherokee went past in the opposite direction 500 ft overhead.
I landed on the runway and taxied off to get my cheap fuel. Once ready to take off again, I noticed that runway 12-30 started close to where I was, and was already facing the in the right direction. With no control tower to ask, it was my decision to make, so I crossed runway 17 (making the required UNICOM call) to the threshold of runway 12, and announced my intent to take off and climb to the southeast. I ran up the engine, and accelerated.
Sometime around the liftoff speed, I heard a Cessna say he was 6 miles southeast of the airport and would descend and enter a left downwind for runway 17. That would place him right where I was already going! I made a call announcing my intent again so that he would know about me. He made another position call, and I responded again. At around 600 or 700 AGL, I saw him - head on on a collision course about a mile away. There was little time, but fortunately I was still 200 to 300 feet below him. So I pushed forward on the yoke to stop my climb, and 20 seconds later he went past overhead, banking right to enter the downwind.
Someone, who didn't identify himself, said "Nice!" over the air. Was it the Cessna pilot? Did he even know I was there? I saw him take no action of any kind, nor did he respond to any of my broadcasts, just as the Cherokee driver plowed on regardless earlier. Just like driving a car, you have to assume that everyone else is out to get you. Especially on a warm, sunny Saturday afternoon in Texas, near an airport with cheap gas.
I had to make a fuel run last Saturday. I decided to do something a little different and NOT go to my usual pump at Sherman (KSWI). Instead, I loaded a new course on my Garmin 430W and headed for Gainsville, TX.
The sky was severe clear, temps in the low 60's, winds light and variable. I took off to the south, as is normal at McKinney, thanks to our mostly southerly surface flow, that keeps us warm in the winter and the white stuff up in Oklahoma. The tower had me do a right turn out for a Cessna coming up from the south east. With cooler temps and only 1 on board 49C lifted through 1,000 ft AGL as I turned northwest.
There was a little wind at altitude - the GPS ground speed was showing 130 kts, so I had a 15 kt tailwind. I decided to try the GPS approach into Gainsville, which was reporting runway 17 in use. On the way to Gainsville there are a couple of really tall radio towers near Pilots Point, nicely named, for the GPS pointed them out to me as we approached. The tallest is 1,999 ft AGL, or close to 2,800 ft MSL. I was cruising at 3,000, so I wasn't too concerned, but was reminded once more of the need for caution in that area.
I pulled out my new iPAD and loaded up the RNAV (GPS) RWY 17 approach plate. Passing the Initial Approach Fix (IAF) called AROSE, which is right on an oxbow section of the Red River, which separates Texas from Oklahoma, I made my first call on the common UNICOM frequency. Horrors! I heard another aircraft (a Cherokee) announce that he was over the airport, northbound at 3,000 feet to the NDB to enter the hold on the NDB 17 approach. Well, that would place him right where I wanted to be as I turned onto the final approach course, right at my height, and possibly right when I got there.
Nearing ILOPY, I made the executive decision to start descending early. The chart calls for 3,000 ft to ILOPY, then 2,500 until on the glide-slope (these are all minimums). I was already at 2,800 when I started my turn - technically busting minimums, but I decided that was better than a nose full of Cherokee. As it happened, I was already on the glide-slope at 2,500 ft when the Cherokee went past in the opposite direction 500 ft overhead.
I landed on the runway and taxied off to get my cheap fuel. Once ready to take off again, I noticed that runway 12-30 started close to where I was, and was already facing the in the right direction. With no control tower to ask, it was my decision to make, so I crossed runway 17 (making the required UNICOM call) to the threshold of runway 12, and announced my intent to take off and climb to the southeast. I ran up the engine, and accelerated.
Sometime around the liftoff speed, I heard a Cessna say he was 6 miles southeast of the airport and would descend and enter a left downwind for runway 17. That would place him right where I was already going! I made a call announcing my intent again so that he would know about me. He made another position call, and I responded again. At around 600 or 700 AGL, I saw him - head on on a collision course about a mile away. There was little time, but fortunately I was still 200 to 300 feet below him. So I pushed forward on the yoke to stop my climb, and 20 seconds later he went past overhead, banking right to enter the downwind.
Someone, who didn't identify himself, said "Nice!" over the air. Was it the Cessna pilot? Did he even know I was there? I saw him take no action of any kind, nor did he respond to any of my broadcasts, just as the Cherokee driver plowed on regardless earlier. Just like driving a car, you have to assume that everyone else is out to get you. Especially on a warm, sunny Saturday afternoon in Texas, near an airport with cheap gas.
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