My Long Solo XC Nightm.. uh, Adventure!

Cajun_Flyer

Cajun_Flyer

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Cajun Flyer
The long solo cross-country. A huge day in a student pilot’s life. This is the day when you travel over 150 miles. In a plane. By yourself. Strangely enough, I was more excited than nervous. I had a four state tour meticulously planned out. I accounted for every detail. I even flew the path a few times on Google Earth. My destinations: Bedford, MA (starting point), Nashua, NH, Groton, CT, and North Central State, RI. Grand total of 190 nautical miles. The weather was forecast to be absolutely divine – clear skies, excellent visibility, calm winds. What could possibly go wrong?

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Oh, Murphy. How I hate your Law.

Rearing to go, I climbed into my lovely little plane that I had successfully flown only two nights earlier. I smiled, noting that I wasn’t even remotely nervous. For a pessimist like me, that’s a remarkable thing. I taxied down to the runway, got my clearance for takeoff and away I went - off into the great blue yonder.

The adventure began!!!

Or so I thought.

My radio was a little staticky, but, whatever. I waited for ATC to give me clearance to depart north, but I heard nothing but silence. I finally took the initiative and called in. No response. I called again. Still no response. I cranked up the volume on the radio and my headset, checked to make sure my headset was still connected and tried one more time. Static. Just static. Taking a stab in the dark, I tried the ground frequency to see if they could hear me, but I still got no response. At this point, I realized I had lost communications. I looked for conflicting traffic, made a call into the tower hoping they could hear me and headed back. As I got closer to the ground, I started to regain contact with ATC and by the time I landed, they were coming in crystal clear.

Safely back on the ground, the school shook their head in confusion, sent out a mechanic and gave me a new plane. The new plane was actually the one I did my first solo in six months prior. I called in for a fuel top off and started my preflight inspection of the aircraft. All was well. Only thing left was to untie her and take off.

The wings of the airplane are tied down with rope, while the tail is chained to the ground with a lock. I put the key into the lock, turned and pulled. Nothing. It was jammed. I started pulling and yanking, but the cursed thing wouldn’t give. I hate to admit it, but I started to feel like… a girl! (SPOILER ALERT: I am a girl). I saw a guy climbing out of a nearby plane – a big, burly man who looked strong and save-the-dayish. I sheepishly asked him if he could help me with the lock before I, like, break a nail or something. To the relief of my pride, he had the same struggle and was only able to get the thing off by breaking it entirely. Awesome.

At this point, I’m thinking, “Maybe this is all a sign I shouldn’t do this.” But I remembered the enthusiasm I had earlier that morning and all the work I put into the planning. I looked up at the clear, blue skies and thought back to the perfect weather forecast the briefer gave me, knowing that these days are rare up in New England. Signs be damned, I was going up.

Thankfully, I made it to my first destination with ease. I’ve landed at this airport a few times before and every time I managed to annoy its cranky ATCer. My communications, approach, landing and taxiing all must have met precisely to his approval, as, for the first time ever, I received no attitude. (The next guy who landed did not share my luck…). I took a quick, harmless picture to note my accomplishment, texted it to my probably-not-all-that-amused instructor and went into the airport diner for coffee and a muffin. I like to eat at my destinations.

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Nashua, NH (aka Norway!)​
 
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The next leg of my journey was to be the hardest, or so I thought. It was 90 nautical miles and involved circumventing some restricted military airspace. While this leg of the trip was long (almost a solid hour), it was mostly uneventful. I had some clouds come down on me around Worcester, MA, but I was able to drop 500 feet to remain VFR. It started to get a little bumpy the closer I got to the coast, but I figured it was just some winds off the water and I’m pretty used to bumpy conditions. No big deal.

Things got a little stressful as I was on final approach to Groton. ATC tried to squeeze another aircraft in front of me for a landing, asking them if they could make a short approach. Normally, something like this would be fine. But in this case, the other pilot didn’t see me and I didn’t see him. Initially he agreed – no one likes to question or deny ATC, but as he was turning base he apparently saw my proximity and didn’t feel the approach could be safely made. He called in and told the tower he was unable and requested I land first. I never did see him.

Safely back on the ground, I took yet another harmless picture to mark my accomplishment, sent it along to my wondering-what-the-heck-is-wrong-with-me instructor and made my way into the airport diner. There, I chatted with a couple old pilots who were really confused to see a young lady climb out of an airplane – BY HERSELF! - and enjoyed a water and grilled cheese sandwich.

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Groton, CT (aka Hawaii!)
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I made a lovely takeoff from Groton, departing over water – which was both really cool and really surreal. I had never done that before. There’s a noise ordinance around that airport, so I couldn’t turn north to my next destination until I climbed at least 1,000 feet. Gave me plenty of time to wonder what it would be like to crash to my death into the Long Island Sound. Finally, I made my climb, turned north and asked the tower for permission to switch to the Providence Approach frequency for flight following.

“Groton Tower, Warrior 116-November-Delta, Permission for early frequency change to Providence Approach 123.675.”

I read all of my frequencies back just in case I happened to get one wrong...

“6-November-Delta… where the heck did you get that frequency from?”

...such as I did this time.

“Google. (joking) You got a better one for me? 6-November-Delta.”

“6-November-Delta, Early frequency change approved. How's about 119.45. Have a good flight.”
 
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One thing that kept me calm during my flight from New Hampshire down to southern Connecticut was that at any time I could look out of the plane and find a decent landing spot on the ground. There’s comfort in knowing that you have a place to put the plane down in the event of an emergency. Unfortunately, this next leg of my trip included no such spots. Just trees. Power lines and trees.

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Even more unfortunate was what started happening in the sky. I’ve experience light turbulence and some crazy winds on almost all of my recent flights, but this was a different beast entirely. I was getting slammed around. Twice, the winds shifted so strong that it whipped my plane around and I actually felt like I was being yanked from the sky. I dropped my speed, counter-corrected and held on.

As mildly terrifying as this all was, what I was hearing on ATC wasn’t much better. Another plane had been in distress and Providence lost contact. Any time an aircraft got in the vicinity of where he lost contact, they would ask them if they saw any smoke or signs of an incident. Thankfully every pilot, each sounding understandably concerned, gave the same answer – “Negative.” You could hear the increasing relief in the ATCer's voice as each response came in. It was an ominous thing to listen to as a student pilot being tossed around like a rag doll thousands of feet up in the sky.

Finally, I had my next destination in sight. I called into Providence and asked for permission to switch to North Central’s traffic frequency. This was the only non-towered airport on my journey. Supposedly, non-towered airports are easier to navigate on the radio, but I’m used to a really busy Class D under Boston airspace, so I was a fish out of water. Obviously curious about weather conditions at this point, I tried to tune into the AWOS frequency, but, given my luck for the day, it was out of service. I monitored the frequency of my destination for a minute to figure out which runway people were using, but was met with silence. So, before going windsock hunting, I shot back over to Providence to see if they could advise.

“6-November-Delta, Negative. If it helps, I know another aircraft just landed on 33.”

“Thanks. Switching back to CTAF. 6-November-Delta.”

Still being violently tossed around, I started making my calls. No one was responding and I saw no one else around, so I assumed there was no other traffic. But as I was on final, I started to see what looked like a dark blob on the runway. The closer I got, the bigger the blob appeared. It wasn’t moving, weird. Finally, it dawns on me… helicopter!

The good news is that I saw him and was able to execute a quick go-around, the bad news is that he didn’t see me and lifted off just as I was overhead. By some miracle, we dodged each other and I circled back around for a landing. The mistake was on me. Apparently, I had keyed in the wrong frequency… one number off.

I landed. In shame. Took yet another harmless picture for my likely-rolling-his-eyes-by-now instructor, fueled up and went into the sadly restrauntless airport office for a much needed breather.

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North Central State, RI (aka… Mexico!)​
 
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Ok, so I’ll admit it – I was shaken by the last leg of my flight. I thought if I just went inside for a while and cooled my heels, I would be good to go for the last part of my journey. Only problem was that everyone inside was huddled around a TV blasting footage of the EgyptAir incident. Not helpful. I lasted five minutes.

Tired, shaken and ready to be home, I did my preflight, climbed into my plane and prepped for the ride back. “You can handle this. You’re a great pilot. Get yourself together.” I told this to myself again and again. I started up the plane, but noticed something on my checklist wasn’t producing the result it should have been. The fuel pressure needle, which normally moves when I turn the fuel pump on, stood idle. I shut her down and tried again. Still nothing. So I called the school and spoke to one of the mechanics. He gave me a lot of jargon that meant absolutely nothing to me.

Me: “Are you absolutely sure that this paranoid student pilot isn't going to die because of this problem?”
Mechanic: “Yes. Now fire it up and bring it home.”

Honestly, I think I was just looking for a reason to justify delaying the last leg of my flight. I thought maybe my instructor could give me the final push I needed, so I decided to give him a quick call. No answer. He probably had his phone on silent to drown out all my texts. I hung up, closed my eyes and collected myself. I was on my own.

“You can handle this. You’re a great pilot. Get yourself together.”

Finally, I was solid again. I COULD handle this. I WAS a great pilot. I tuned into the correct frequency this time and began my journey home.

I wish I could say conditions had improved, but they were so much worse. I spent the entirety of the flight forcing the plane to stay straight and level, and struggling to maintain my heading. I kept getting blown east - not a good thing with the Class B airspace right there. Unfortunately, Boston was too busy to put me on flight following, so I was on my own. Traffic was heavy and turbulence was strong. At one point, I swear my plane almost inverted on me. I kept it slow and beelined as best I could back to Bedford. The second I was back in range, I called into the tower – my wonderful, trusty ol’ tower! - and asked for assistance navigating the traffic.

"6-November-Delta, Ident."

Anything for you, I thought.

“6-November-Delta, Southbound traffic 10:00, two miles out at 2,700 feet. Additional southwest-bound traffic, 1:00, three miles out at 2,500 feet.”

I was at 2,700 feet. Going north. Super.

Little did I know that back down on the ground, a dozen or so of my coworkers were standing out in a parking lot staring up at the sky waiting to spot me go by. They had been following my journey.

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While they were all down there smiling and cheering me on, I was up there holding on like my life depended on it – skirting traffic, fighting turbulence and wondering if Heaven had good whiskey.

 
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Finally, I heard those sweet, sweet words from the tower.

“6-November-Delta. 4 miles left base for 29er. Cleared to land.”

It was the same guy from earlier in the morning when I lost my radio. There was other traffic that probably could have/should have gone first, but I think I got a sympathy clearance. It wasn’t my most graceful landing, but, God, it was my favorite.

“6-November-Delta. Turn left on Golf. Contact ground 121.7. Have a good day.”

“Thank you. I think I will now. 6-November-Delta.”

I hate to admit this, but there was a moment or two during the flight that really made me – for the first time ever - doubt my desire to be a pilot. I learned later that an advisory had been put out regarding “extreme temperature” difference of 9⁰C (48 F) between 3,000 and 6,000 ft that was causing shear and turbulence. They were advising pilots use extra caution. That advisory hadn’t been put out when I called the briefer that morning, so I hadn’t gotten the memo. In hindsight, I should have used my time during all my diner stops to get updates on weather. But I was an over-enthusiastic student pilot, eager to make and complete her journey, and just kept plowing ahead.

I made it to my final destination. Took one last harmless picture for my likely-annoyed-but-equally-relieved-I-made-it CFI, downed the shizznit out of some beer and called it a day.

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The Bar (aka… the bar)
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Despite my fears and all that I faced, I remained strong and in control. I handled each situation as it came up as methodically and appropriately as I knew how. Yes, there were lots of things I should have done differently, but, at the end of the day, I completed my journey, learned from my mistakes and made it back in one piece. I may not be official until after I pass the FAA's test, but, in my eyes, I passed an even more important test - my own. I became a pilot.​


***I looked back and no aircraft incidents had been noted in Rhode Island that day, so hopefully the plane they were looking for – and the pilot inside of it – made it safely to the ground. And hopefully his or her beer tasted just as good as mine. If not, better.
 
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Nice write up and an adventure you won't forget. You had fun, you learned and you gained a lot of experience, sounds a winning day all around. You found your turbulence limit and next time you'll understand that better.

Glad to hear negative news about Rhode Island. Did you ever figure out the fuel pump thing? Obviously it WAS fine, but what was different?
 
bflynn said:
Did you ever figure out the fuel pump thing? Obviously it WAS fine, but what was different?
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No, but the fuel pressure needle moved appropriately once I was airborne, so the mechanic was correct that it was not an issue.
 
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S*** happens on solo cross countries. I think it's the point. You deal with it and go on. Part of becoming PIC.

On mine, I discovered while airborne that my DME didn't work, so the leg I'd planned to navigate that way had to be replanned in the air. Also, a nearby plane called a mayday and approach lost contact, and asked me to relay and look. The relay didn't work (I think they switched to CTAF -- didn't think to switch myself at the time), but I could see a plane landing on the runway 3000 feet below. No smoke column.

Next time, you'll think of an altitude change and a request for PIREPs to FSS as soon as you start getting smacked around. Nothing wrong with cruising at 7000, or at 2000 over low terrain.
 
Nice write up. Sounds like a great learning experience and another mile stone out of the way. Keep it up and learn from every flight!!

By the way, how was your weight and balance with all the costumes you packed lol
 
Great captain's log, Cajun_Flyer. Welcome home, from your neighbor in The Crescent City.
 
mulligan said:
By the way, how was your weight and balance with all the costumes you packed lol
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$20 at Party City the day before! People asked why I was carrying a big trash bag onto the plane and I just shrugged, smiled and said, "Gotta ditch some evidence over the Sound." :)
 
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That was a fantastic read Cajun! Brought back memories of my own long XC. Nice touch with the costumes too. It's good you had a few problems to deal with, decisions to make, and had some pressure on you. You will build on this and gain experience from it. Almost there! You'll be a Private Pilot soon.
 
Now, see, I was tingly and excited when I did my long XC, but if I had written about it, it would have been the written equivalent of grass growing. You made it fun, and for that, SA-lute!

Keep us posted on your progress, will ya'?
 
Thanks for the great writeup!

These things happen on solo XCs, hopefully you won't be too discouraged after you've had a day or two to process the experience. On my long solo XC, one of my destination airports was closed due to an airshow and I had to plot a route around it. Then, at my last destination, the winds were really rough and I had to go around once, finally landed but it definitely wasn't pretty!

One thing I don't understand is how you could taxi to the runway and take off without being sure you had comms, since it's a towered field. Maybe I misread that part though, maybe you had your taxi and takeoff clearances and the comm problem developed later?

Also, when a gauge seems to be malfunctioning, be sure you know whether that instrument is required for the flight to be legal. If you don't know it, know where to look it up. So, is the fuel pressure gauge required for flight? Just a friendly little challenge!

(I had a gauge fail in flight once that was definitely required for flight, diverted, only to have it come back to life once on the ground and after a thorough check of systems on the ground it seemed to be fine, so I completed my mission and had my mechanic check it out when I got back. But had I taken off with the gauge inoperative, I could have been slapped with an enforcement action by the FSDO guy who investigated the occurrence.)
 
azure said:
One thing I don't understand is how you could taxi to the runway and take off without being sure you had comms, since it's a towered field. Maybe I misread that part though, maybe you had your taxi and takeoff clearances and the comm problem developed later?
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I would never take off without clearance. Yes, I had comms on the ground. I lost it on takeoff and it wasn't until I got back under 1,000 feet that I was able to start hearing them again.

Regarding the fuel gauge - that's why I called the school. For one, I wanted to know WHY that was happening, but I also admit that I wasn't sure if it was a gauge required to be working or not and wanted to play it safe. Looks like I have some more homework to do.
 
Nice job.....for a GIRL!!!





JK, nice job! I'm not kidding about you being a girl, just kidding overall....u know what I'm trying to say......eman, shut UP!


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
 
Made me chuckle. I didn't recognize your face, but did your name (and East Coast location) so good for you! Before long that xcountry will seem like a fun little day trip.
 
Cajun_Flyer said:
I would never take off without clearance. Yes, I had comms on the ground. I lost it on takeoff and it wasn't until I got back under 1,000 feet that I was able to start hearing them again.
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Never meant to imply that you didn't, only that the first time I read it, it sounded as if you just taxied down and took off. Thought maybe you just left that out. But I just read it again, and you did mention the takeoff clearance. My bad, sorry!

The fact that you couldn't hear them from above 1000 feet makes me wonder if the issue wasn't the distance, and perhaps the antenna was bad. Well, one nice thing about renting is that you don't have to worry yourself about maintenance headaches, the FBO takes care of that. There have been times I've wished I was in that position again!
 
Awesome write up
Thanks
Nice to see someone not taking themselves too seriously - this flying thing IS fun. Continue to enjoy it!
 
Thanks, all. I really didn't expect anyone to read that novel!

Eman... your posts crack me up :)
 
That was awesome! Maybe you should start a blog, you are quite a writer and story teller. I can't wait til my long x/c. It's coming up pretty quick, I just hope it's not as eventful as yours.
 
Personally, I think that's a great cross country. The kind that, successfully completed, should make one confident, since those are the things that happen in the real world. I had a radio failure on my first solo cross country and encountered unforecast lowering ceilings on my long one (which was then 300nm). It convinced me more than anything, this is what I wanted to do. 26 years later, they are among the highlights.
 
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Great write-up. Nice to see someone having fun while being challenged. Love your sense of humor!
 
Well done and fun read. Hey if you do give up on being a pilot( please don't by the way-- it gets way easier than what you went through) you certainly have a future as a writer!

Seriously, don't give up on flying. The turbulence is the worst part of flying light single engine planes and you will learn as you gain experience to avoid turbulence like the plague!
 
jspilot said:
Well done and fun read. Hey if you do give up on being a pilot( please don't by the way-- it gets way easier than what you went through) you certainly have a future as a writer!
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Thanks! And I assure you, I have no intentions of giving up on being a pilot. It was just a moment I had on the last leg of my journey when I thought, "This isn't fun anymore. So why the heck am I doing it?" Of course, once I got back on the ground, all the reasons came flooding back to me. Besides, it's usually the things that present the greatest challenges that also provide the greatest rewards.
 
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Cajun_Flyer said:
I would never take off without clearance. Yes, I had comms on the ground. I lost it on takeoff and it wasn't until I got back under 1,000 feet that I was able to start hearing them again.

Regarding the fuel gauge - that's why I called the school. For one, I wanted to know WHY that was happening, but I also admit that I wasn't sure if it was a gauge required to be working or not and wanted to play it safe. Looks like I have some more homework to do.
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91.205 and 91.213

I only know that because my instructor is busting me to memorize this stuff. (I'm in progress on it.)

Great, honest write up.
 
jspilot said:
Well done and fun read. Hey if you do give up on being a pilot( please don't by the way-- it gets way easier than what you went through) you certainly have a future as a writer!
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As a teenager, every time I was asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, my answer was always the same - pilot by day, writer by night. Life took me in a different direction, but I'm slowly starting to steer things back on course. Thank you for the compliment!
 
Great write up, also brought back memories of my first cross country. Not as exciting as yours but it had its moments. We'll done!
 
A great story well told.
Thank you for sharing the fun.
I hope you will share more of your flying adventures.
Your story brought back lovely memories.
 
Nice job. I'm so glad that you haven't let any obstacles stand in your way of chasing this dream. You are obviously meant to be successful at this.
 
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