Solo Cross-Country Flights
| First Solo Cross Country: Albany-Tillamook-Newport-Albany |
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There is nothing more beautiful than a flight along the Oregon Coast on a sunny day. The pictures included here were not taken on my solo cross-country. Since the purpose of my cross-countries is flight training, I did not even take my camera along. However such spectacular scenery is enjoyable during any flight! Shown above is the big spit at Siletz Bay. I took the coast photos a few days later, as Ty, who is building cross-country time as a private pilot, flew from Corvallis via Newport to Astoria. Tuesday, February 26, 2002. As soon as I awoke early this morning, I began to check the weather. First I checked my favorite weather pages, then I listened to the route forecast and "Current Western Oregon" weather recording from the McMinnville Flight Service Station. At about ten AM local time I used the recorded winds aloft to construct a flight plan and navlog. When Tim went over my flight plan and we decided the weather was just about perfect, I obtained a standard briefing from the FSS. During this briefing, I discovered that the winds aloft were now very different from the ones that I had used, so I changed my navlog. Tim asked me lots of questions about my flight plan. He quizzed me on which runways I would use at both Tillamook and Newport if the local surface wind changed direction. He also cautioned me that if --when I could see over the Coast Range --there were low clouds or any fog rolling in at the coast --that I would simply turn back. I had enough fuel to turn back at any point and still have adequate reserves. The weather was clear all over western Oregon, so this was only a very small likelihood. Since I was especially familiar with the first portion of the Albany to Tillamook leg, I would get on course by simply flying to Independence and heading from there towards Dallas such that I would pass practically right over it. My first leg would be primarily pilotage and dead reckoning. Alas, I had made an error in my first course. Immediately as I took up the heading, I realized that it did not make sense. It was a little bumpy at this point, so it was cumbersome to fly and figure out my proper heading at the same time. I took my "prayer wheel" (as our esteemed surveyor friend and pilot Bert Mason calls it) apart and used the scale portion to transfer a reasonable bearing from a compass rose. Then I converted the wind to magnetic and applied the small wind correction to this heading. Ruefully, I noticed that as I put the prayer wheel away, the air got nice and smooth...~some pilot-induced turbulence? <grin> Over my Dallas checkpoint, I was able to see that things now made sense. My new heading would take me over the mountains right towards Tillamook. Although I never was worried, it was reassuring to arrive at my next checkpoint of Willamina and nearby Sheridan on time. One thing that I was quickly learning is how difficult it can be to try and write much during even a slightly bumpy ride. Already I had decided to re-design a very simple nav log for time "ticks" or "hacks": one with plenty of space for writing and simple enough to keep "heads-up" as much as possible. Soon I could see the shape of Tillamook Bay and the wonderfully large hangar of the Air Museum. It was then that the excitement of being solo really came to the fore. Abeam Mt. Hebo and crossing the Nestucca River, I made my first call to the unicom, after listening for traffic. It was completely quiet, so I made the decision to fly over the airport to get a good look at the wind sock. Even on so beautiful and gentle a day, I could not be sure that a cross wind did not await me! From time to time I have had problems seeing wind socks, so I looked for smoke stacks, chimneys, etc. for wind clues. It was such a joy not only to find the windsock easy to see, but also to note that it was hanging almost completely limp. Without a hitch I landed on the calm wind runway. I did not stop here for long, but instead back-taxied for takeoff. I did take a few moments to review my next leg, to dial-in the correct frequency for the Newport VOR, and to check my instruments carefully before departing for Newport.
The above photo shows the coast looking north and I was flying south, but it does give you an idea of how easy pilotage it is flying along the coast. Still, you need to keep track of your time and have checkpoints. So many of the bays, spits, and promontories look alike! By turning south over a very prominent spit west of Tillamook, the Newport VOR would help me stay on track .
North of Newport are some spectacular rocky promontories and beaches. From the north, the airport at Newport is easy to spot with its large runways and expanse of open space. I knew that it was time to begin preparations to land.
My next "big bay with airport" checkpoint was Siletz Bay. In the foreground, you can just barely see the beach in the picture above. This airport was easy to spot. Here I continued my pre-landing checks for Newport, listening to the AWOS and getting set-up to announce my intentions to land. The calm-wind runway was in very active use, even though a seven-knot tail-wind was being reported. I decided that it was not worth going "against the flow of traffic" to land "properly". It calls for a right-hand pattern that takes you out over the water. It was very exciting and happily I kept good contact with traffic in the pattern and made a nice landing here. I took a break and had some tea out of a vending machine. Now to begin my last leg back to Albany. Part of me was anxious to complete the flight, but another part of me wished that I could go on farther. How fun it would be to fly on down the coast to Florence or North Bend. Already this flight was helping me to feel more like a real pilot. Yet it was certainly not over and I spent a few moments carefully going over my last leg to Albany. My checkpoints were very easy to find. Mary's Peak (pictured below) is unmistakable, even though it sure looks different from the "other side".
All too soon it was time to prepare for landing at Albany. As I passed Corvallis, I monitored its CTAF. As always, busy-busy! I heard someone announce an instrument approach and soon spotted them on a flight path well below and to my left. I changed to Albany's 122.8 and continued my descent towards home. Then came a very interesting announcement on Albany's frequency. An unmanned parachute was drifting towards the airport. The parent aircraft was tracking and continuously announcing its altitude and position. Since another plane had also announced an approach and two were already in the pattern, I looked hard for the 'chute and of course for the other traffic. Since I wanted to close my flight plan in the air, I decided to stay away from the goings-on and made a wide, gentle circle back towards the west, well away from it all. When you call the FSS with only one radio, it puts you out of communication with local traffic, so I wanted to be extra sure that I was in a good position to do this even momentarily. With the airport in sight, I closed my flight plan in the air and headed-in to a now quiet airport to land joyously. I had made it! My first solo cross-country! Without a hitch! I felt both very proud and very humble. The parachute had piqued my curiosity, but I may never find out what it was. An "unmanned parachute with a payload". Hmmm, a sounding of some sort? An experiment? Perhaps from OSU or the government. No one at the FBO had any idea, but I'll keep asking around! When I talked to Tim, he told me news that made me as excited as finishing my first solo cross-country. Ty had just scheduled his first instrument lesson with Tim! I am overjoyed! |
