IMC is a Head Game
New year, new aircraft.
Today we will mostly be flying..... a Socata TB10.
Different feel, laid back seating, different speeds, different flaps, radio integrated with the Nav console and a variable pitch or "wobbly" prop (that today we won't investigate).
We plan a mixed ADF, VOR and ILS flight around the countryside, with foggles, and a potential IMC student in the back, so I won't see anything outside the cockpit from 300ft after take-off to 500ft before landing. If I wasn't so busy I'd probably have time to be airsick.....
A high pressure system has settled over the country bringing clear skies and plenty of wind, close to the crosswind limits of most of the aircraft, so bumpy flying and crabbed approaches are the order of the day.
Despite this, the airfield is as busy as I have seen it and we spend some time holding for aircraft to land that I know are way outside their official crosswind limits.
The ability to visualise NDB manoeuvres in your head is a necessary skill, and one that I have reasonably well mastered....... on the ground. However, performing those manoeuvres in the air whilst trying to keep the aircraft straight and level, do the radio and maintain one's mental picture is more difficult by several orders of magnitude. This coupled with my complete inability to trim the aircraft effectively results in a very high workload.
We have planned a standard Moreton departure (runway 19, right turn outbound, capture 315° outbound on the NDB and continue until you are on the 045° radial inbound to the DTY VOR) and that works OK, although it's bumpy as we climb out. I capture the NDB outbound OK, then lose it and recapture it, overshoot the turn towards Daventry then over-compensate before finally settling on to the correct track. Later, on the GPS, this looks messy.
At Daventry we turn for the Cranfield VOR OK, then half way there turn for a 60° capture of 225° inbound for Westcott (-60 looking for +60 falling). This works, once I have subtracted 60° from 225° rather than added it....
Once established on this track, however, it all goes a bit Pete Tong. I convince myself too early that we have reached the Westcott NDB, so turn North to 345° for Daventry. Lots of fly left VOR indications take me further and further West until finally we intercept track about 20 miles later, but not before my Instructor has asked me where we are, and I have failed to provide a reasoned (or indeed correct) response. Tut tut tut.
Once established on the course and 5DME from DTY, we make a turn for an extended capture of the Oxford ILS and this goes better, once I eventually capture the localiser. Previously I have made the mistake of treating the ILS like a VOR, where things happen relatively slowly, but you have to be much more positive and react more quickly to an ILS because it's much more sensitive.
Given that we have a 45Kt crosswind at this height and it's bumpy, we do OK and I manage to track the localiser and then the glideslope all the way down to a rather scary 500ft QNH (or 375ft above ground) before I flip up the goggles and there's the runway (out of the side window, we've got a serious crab on). He asks whether I am happy to take it in and warns me (again) about chopping the power at the flare: "just fly it on" he says, so of course I chop the power (doh!), it drops like a stone and we settle hard. Next time FLY IT ON....
In we go, the back of my shirt is sticky and I need a stiff drink, but we've made some progress. Now we need more practise. IFR flying is relatively easy but IFR nav is all in the head.

A humbling diversion
We all reckon we're good pilots; some of us reckon we're excellent pilots. The majority of us know nothing......
It's a sunny but blowy Sunday and I'm being taken out in an immaculate Columbia 400 by a colleague. This is a mind-blowing piece of equipment: 230Kts cruise, wooden (wooden?) sidestick, turbo, VP, every piece of cockpit automation you can imagine. And he knows how to use it all.
We taxi out to 19 and it feels like a normal aeroplane, but when he lights the wick, there's a lot of noise from up front and we're off like a scalded cat. Right turn outbound and we're at 5,000ft doing 180Kts in about 2 minutes flat.
I take it, we do some Rate 1 and Rate 2 turns, I'm scared to do anything really serious, there aren't any instruments on my side and I'm having real difficulty in deciphering the instrumentation on his side. However, I eventually work out where level flight is, speed and direction, by whch time we've been round Gloucestershire twice. At this speed you really need TCAS (which it has) because you aren't going to see the other aircraft, and he sure as hell isn't going to see you.
I descend, start to turn to acquire the Localiser for 19, and simply blow straight through the beam. You really need to plan a lot further back and be very positive about what you're doing at these speeds; it's very disconcerting.
He pulls the speedbrakes, lets the autopilot run us down the ILS, takes over at 500ft and completely forgets to call Final, but then makes the most beautiful landing; we barely know we're on the ground. Apologies to the Tower, we roll in and shut down.
I am utterly humbled by what this aircraft can do, and how much higher it, and the attendant pilot, are up the evolutionary scale from me in a PA-28 struggling to do a successful VOR capture. It's quite depressing, actually. Mind you, it burns 40 US Gallons per hour in the climb and 20 in the cruise, so you need some very deep pockets to fly it (which he has).
Awesome. Just Awesome.

Nothing floats like a Cessna
Having managed not to fly for real (plenty of Flight Sim IMC Nav runs, though) during the whole of February (not for a lack of trying, but the days I book simply don't coincide with flyable weather), a spare weekday morning in March allows a little solo trip to Shoreham to see my friends at Eastern Atlantic Helicopters, something I've been promising myself for a while. The wind is a bit gusty and conditions are marginal, but if you wait for perfect conditions you'd never get any flying done!
I haven't flown the Cessna 172 since last September, having been in IMC training in PA-28s all winter, so I need a checkout first. Off with my Instructor, the wind is 270° 13Kts which on runway 19 is 80° off the runway, close to the published airframe limits. We've been here before and had problems with the Cessna.
We take off, right-turn outbound and head for the empty spaces North-West of Woodstock for a PFL; he pulls the throttle and I turn downwind, trim for 75Kts, designate a field and perform a constant-aspect anti-clockwise turn in to it.
At 1,000ft I decide that field is crap as it's ploughed, and the one next to it is better as it's grass and uphill, so change and at 400ft by which time we are both convinced I can make it comfortably (OK, I cheat a bit by "warming" the engine, but we'd still have made it), we throw it away and head back for Oxford.
We're still very close to Oxford and acquiring a right-base join, swapping frequencies, downwind checks and positioning with a serious crab on for Final have to be done in a very short space of time. There was a time I would have really struggled with the workload but have joined right base for this runway at night with no instruments, so this is easy.....
Big crab on Final, 75Kts, nice flare and we're down with a little squeak but no bounce. Clean up, boot it, climb out and do a circuit. He reckons I should do it at 80Kts because it's gusty, so this time we do a "Bembridge special" and float half way down the runway before the wheels touch. It didn't feel any more in control than before; I'm not convinced.
We go in, I drop him off and head out 1 PoB. Check all the Navaids after the power checks, ensure I have a plan for the climbout (learned that from cocking it up in FS X) and take off.
Out of the circuit, head South, VOR to Compton, change to Farnborough, VOR Compton to Midhurst, Midhurst to Shoreham, change to Shoreham, join overhead at 2,000ft then turn and descend on the dead side behind a PA-28 that flies the crosswind leg so far out to sea we almost conflict with take-off traffic. I stay on his tail: he's so close I'm not losing visual with him for a moment. I hang back and fly the circuit over the South Downs; by the time we get to Final for runway 20 with the wind 15Kts 270° I'm sufficiently far behind him to get a land after, but I'm now too high and too fast. Well, my Instructor did say 80Kts in a crosswind....
Give it full flap and no throttle for the last mile; glide approach, flare 1/3rd of the way down the runway and of course it floats and floats. Nothing floats like a Cessna 10Kt too fast on the approach......
Eventually we get a squeak from the mains and I have to boot the brakes to stop before the turn off, but we're down. Damn that high speed approach....

One landing fee, a cup of tea with my friends and a tour round their hot tub later, we're off on the return leg, using R25 grass. VOR all the way back (I'm getting more relaxed about using them) then contact Oxford, who sound harrassed because the wind is right across runway 19 and they don't like using 29 because it's short. So I take my time over the last few miles.
While I'm pottering in, I hear a student (I reckon on his 1st flight) getting it all wrong on the radio: mixing up hold positions, QNH and runway, the Instructor helping in the background, just like I used to when I started out. Huge sympathy radiating from all on frequency, we've all been there, where you press the button and your brain turns to mush. The Tower were absolutely brilliant, very tolerant and helpful.
Join Downwind for 19 but the wind is now gusting 18Kts, outside airframe limits, so opt for runway 29 instead. If I float on this one I'm in the trees....
To shake the approach Etch-a-Sketch in my head I orbit once, then reposition carefully for 29, swing it wide and do a long, long Final. Come right back to 65Kts and full flap, get it very precisely right and hold it all the way down. Ground speed is about 40Kts so it takes a while, but I put the mains right on the numbers and pull up half way down the runway, at 380m. All very low-stress, actually, don't know what I was worried about.
Taxy home on the main runway, park up and shut down, go in.
Then come right back out, start up again, call for taxy for repositioning and park it in the correct spot this time....
Bugger.

Down at the Sunset Grill
March has been stormy and we have been busy preparing to move house but lots of desktop RANT practise has made me more confident of most of the IMC head work.
Coming home from a client meeting tonight, despite dire weather forecasts the clouds have cleared and it's too good an opportunity to miss. So I wander in on the off-chance and fortunately the Cessna is available. Interestingly, all the touring aircraft head out at once, lots of people feel the same way about the conditions.
Book out, wander out to the aircraft and take off in to beautifully smooth conditions. Above 1,000ft it's trim for hands off, keep two fingers lightly on the yoke and enjoy the scenery. After all the work, it's so nice to fly purely for pleasure. And Donald Fagen provides the soundtrack (I bought Long Road out of Eden last week and was just capitivated by hearing that voice again. I mean, that voice sung Hotel California, One of these nights and The boys of Summer. Send shivers up your spine, it does....).
I never tire of watching the earth from the sky, it looks so different depending on what height you're at, and the light tonight is fantastic. As the sun descends the colours change and everything looks so peaceful from up here.
Over the River Stour I descend to 1,000ft and just bimble up the valley and round a couple of low hills as the sun descends, then wander back at low speed, watching the cars and the cows going about their business. A Downwind join for 01, and a 65Kt full-flap approach in the calm conditions; let's see if we can do a real greaser..... oh, yes....
What a lovely way to spend an hour.

Facing down a 737
It's mid-week and Stephen and I agree to meet up, go out for supper and talk about buying an aeroplane. So we're in at Oxford as everybody else is going home, grab the aircraft key, the hairy fuel key and the Tech log. We haven't got a clue where we're going, but 30 minutes in the café resolves that: we're off to Coventry.
A two-man A Check and we're in the aircraft with me in the left hand seat and the engine started, doing the checks when the engine coughs, sputters..... and stops.
We look at each other; what have we missed and is that going to happen in flight?
The fuel cock is turned to the left, which is of course the "off" position. Neither of us had spotted it, which sobers us up a lot.
Once fueled up with the hairy key we head North in to iffy-looking weather: the NOTAMs say light showers, and we soon encounter one which is bumpy but the viz is OK and within 20 minutes we are on the radio to Coventry, who ask us to route via a cement works that doesn't appear on the map, the AFE book or indeed, at first, even the GPS box. We do find it after a chat with the Tower, but it's far from obvious...
As we prepare for a Left Base Join descending to 1,000ft QFE and with pre-landing checks complete, the evening is now beautiful with the sun sinking. Then the Tower advises us we are number two to land to a Boeing 737. What? He's 100 times our size. Are we at the right airport? Yes, and here he is coming now, lights a-flashing. Ooh er, missus, we're really playing with the big boys now.
His Wake Turbulence will turn us over if we're not careful, so we opt to orbit once for a little separation and just as well we do because as we turn Final here he is backtracking up the runway with all his landing lights on.
"Er, Golf Echo Echo Final...."
"Golf Echo Echo continue approach..."
"Er......continue approach, Golf Echo Echo"
Gulp.

Just at the point where I'm seriously thinking about throwing it away and going around he turns off onto the Taxiway, we are cleared to land and we drop on to the huge tarmac runway.
Taxi-ing away to the right we are instructed to park on the grass; we deplane and head for the GA terminal where they are hugely unprepared for us and our desire to pay our Landing Fee. However, we do eventually find civilisation, a Landing Fee machine, friendly people and a decent supper at a local pub. Thanks, everyone at Almat!

Much later on, we return in the pitch black to a cold, dark grass aircraft park, pre-flight and start up. Stephen is to return us to Oxford and as we both have Night Ratings this is a great opportunity to keep them both current.
Despite a lot of misting up of the windscreen we get started and manage to find our way on to the (unlit) taxiway, hold for an incoming SAAB 340 then backtrack with him following until he turns off, we turn round and take-off. The runway is so long we are at 1,000ft before passing the end of the runway!
We turn for home and the weather has cleared: we can see Didcot and Beckley almost immediately. Night flying is so often smooth and tonight is no exception; the earth slides past beneath us and far too soon we are descending for a Downwind Join for 01 at Oxford. Stephen puts us on the ground in a very efficient manner and we request an apron "stop and swap" then one circuit for my currency, to which they readily agree.
Rotating I get a quick flash from the stall warner (Huh? Never had that before) then we're away for a smooth circuit. Back in to the approach cone I get a little high, then drop neatly back in to the cone as we cross the A44 for a gentle flare and arrival.
All current now, we taxy in, shut down and put the cover on.
Then we take the cover off, put the control lock in and put the cover back on. Oh well, at least we parked it in the right place.....
Coventry is a great evening destination and one we will repeat, most definitely.

An Awfully Big Adventure
It's funny how little ideas turn in to Big Adventures.

The stated plan was to go to Dunkeswell on Sunday; that's not a Big Adventure; I've flown over Dunkeswell before, it's a bimble.

But throw in the idea of flying down to Cornwall the previous evening three-up via Compton Abbas, doing some sightseeing in the morning, flying to Dunkeswell for lunch then coming home, mix in some bloody awful weather forecasts and a pick-up in Perranporth so we'd be four-up coming home, and the adventure becomes somewhat grander.

After an uneventful flight (apart from hearing some poor inattentive pilot bust the Brize zone and get reported for doing so...) in the Cessna down to Compton Abbas in the bright afternoon sunshine, Stephen plonks us neatly on to 26 in a sporting crosswind, and we retire to the restaurant for a Coke.
Compton Abbas couldn't be less like Oxford if it tried: it's a real GA airfield on the top of a hill, with a bouncy grass runway and a 500ft drop straight after take off. The radio responses are almost as laconic as Haverfordwest (basically make it up yourself and they will reply "Roger" every time), lots of people having tea in the immaculate viewing area watching people landing and taking-off, Yaks doing aerobatics in the overhead, the enthusiasm is high; everyone is very friendly and the facilities are outstanding. We'll be back.

I'm now P1 so swing Fox Oscar on to the runway; we bounce over the muddy bits and fling ourselves out over the drop. The scenery is fantastic and as we climb South West we can see the sea off to our left.
We will be arriving at Perranporth after-hours, so discuss alternates if for some reason we can't find it or the weather turns: Exeter sounds good, or ultimately we have the fuel to get back to Oxford, even. The comfort of a Night rating is not worrying about being caught out by sunset.
Navigating VFR backed up by two Garmin 296s we drone on through the late afternoon talking to Exeter, then to St Mawgan. St Mawgan gives us a Zone Transit and we descend towards Perranporth, making blind calls. The visibility has deteriorated and is now around 4-5Km in haze as the sun sinks; the GPS is telling us we're in the right place, and we've descended to 1,000ft, but where's the field?
Suddenly it appears and we kink around some houses on to a short Final for 23. The plan is to overfly 23, do a right hand circuit and drop in, but I reckon we can get in from here, so 3 stages of flap, chop the throttle, 65Kts and ease it down. Catch a bit of float on the round out, land a bit skewed, then we're rolling. Bit of nosewheel shimmy as we brake, and we're taxying on to the grass and tying down. The place is deserted and nowhere near as well-kempt as Compton Abbas, but everything is serviceable, and we potter off for an evening in Falmouth.
The weather forecast for tomorrow reads "heavy rain"........

50m in fog...
We wake up to the patter of raindrops on the roof; the forecast shows a band of heavy rain crossing the country Eastwards. Looks like we may get back late once the front has gone through.
But during breakfast the rain clears and the sun comes out; we drive back to the field, pay our previous day's landing fee and plan a little sightseeing around Lands End. There are fluffy clouds around but nothing major, so we load up, take-off and head West for Lands End, about 10 minutes away.
Straight after take-off looking straight down to the sea pounding away at the cliffs from 1,000ft is awesome; the little villages pass beside us as we perform noise abatement jinks then climb to get a better view.
Changing to Lands End radio we realise we are the only GA item moving in the whole Lands End area; he informs he is in fog with visibility of 50m and from up here we can see it blowing in from the West, so we skirt it and head for the South coast in a large circle. The view is without precedent; I've never flown over here before and it's really worth seeing. I'll come back for Lands End another day.
Having confirmed Penzance Heliport is inactive we descend to 700ft passing St Michael's Mount for some close-up pictures, then climb back Northbound. Karen's Mother, in the back, wants to see her house, so we follow a couple of roads around then orbit over it before heading back to the increasingly cloudy circuit, whilst dodging another aircraft we can't see. A proper circuit this time, catch the same round-out float as last time ("this week I will be mainly doing crap landings...."), use too much runway slowing down and miss the intersection turn off, taxy to the pumps and shut down. Great sightseeing.

The small white tunnel
Now we're fuelled and four-up, I have a passenger with an IMC just in case we need to do anything Instrument-like on the way to Dunkeswell; but the front seems to have blown through so we're hopeful it should be clear VFR all the way to lunch.
After another zone transit from St Mawgan we climb to 3,000ft and cruise North East towards Bodmin Moor. The clouds are scattered and fluffy at first, but soon thicken until we are faced with two layers of cloud. At first we can go between them, and we even occasionally go through them: good IMC practise, thinks I.
But 20 minutes later, we find our way blocked by a mass of cloud: we've caught the front up. We can go back, we can go under but it's the classic case of lowering cloud and climbing ground (we're over Bodmin Moor), so we discuss going over it. I'm willing to try climbing through it, so we leave the last section of clear air and suddenly we're in a small white claustrophobic little tunnel.
Exeter gives us a Radar Information Service so we know we're not going to hit anyone; two terrain-following Garmins give us confidence there aren't any rocks in the clouds, just like an IMC lesson it's a question of following the bug and climbing at a controlled pace without turning the aircraft over.
It's very quiet in the cabin and I do have to concentrate hard, but it's all doable and we hold the heading and climb to 4,000ft where we emerge in to a half-melted ice cream world briefly before it too disappears.
We give up trying to climb over it as we are 20 miles out from Dunkeswell so bid goodbye and thankyou to Exeter, change to Dunkeswell, check their cloudbase and gently descend through it. Ooh, this is excellent IMC practise.
As we pass 8 miles out and descending through 2,000ft a hole suddenly appears to our right and I make a grab for it so we can descend in clear air to beneath the cloud. By the time we emerge we are very low: we can't find the airfield because it is behind that low hill that we can't see over because we are below the ridge. We check ther QNH: it's 983. That means we aren't just low; we are very low. And those clouds are low, too, so we can't climb.
We scud run over the hill and perform a low-level left hand Downwind join, a badly-judged turn on to Final whilst selecting full flaps (tut tut...) then capture a good approach path and speed for 23 just in time, round out too early (with hindsight it's having 4 people in the aircraft, the CG moves rearward and I am failing to compensate) and land a bit skewed (again...). Taxy in and shut down; that was really hard work.

After lunch Stephen takes over and 15 seconds after lift off we are in solid white again, all the way to 5,000ft where at last we emerge in to sunshine, hit the autopilot and cruise home. The cloud clears over Bristol and we slowly descend in to Oxford, for a smooth landing.
Biggest Adventure to date, certainly. Next flyout is Jersey.

What have we taken away from this? You really do need an IMC to do any serious reliable flying in the UK, despite what the Europeans may say. So now I've done IMC "for real" it's time to take a week off and finish it.

Flying the Big Bus Pt.1
My hope of taking the family to Jersey in the Cessna to take advantage of the beautiful early-June weather is dashed: not for once by the weather or my own stupidity, but by the owner suddenly selling it. So it's "bye bye Foxtrot Oscar" and time to learn to drive the PA-32 Cherokee Six: the Big Bus.
I long ago noticed Delta Romeo sitting in the corner and pretty soon realised it never flew; I always assumed it was privately owned until a few days ago; now I'm going to learn to fly it.
Compared to the PA-28 and the Cessna 172 this is a brute: a 235hp engine and six seats plus generous baggage compartments. And I'm not knocking elbows with my Instructor. You could even swap seats in flight, especially in the back. Some airlines run commercial services with these: time I got some epaulettes and a peaked cap.....
So, an extended walk around, learn to "fill the tip tanks first, then the main tanks; use the main tanks first, then the tip tanks", master the weird fuel drain behind the front passenger seat, find the headphone sockets which are hidden away, and start the brute which takes a little doing as it is quite reluctant to start cold (and, as we find out later, hot...).
First impressions are that it's wider than anything I've flown before, and the speedometer has mph on the outside and Knots on the inside, which is very confusing. The ancilliary switches have been moved to a console on the left wall and confusingly swapped so that rather than reading FLAP left to right (Fuel pump, Landing light, Anti-collision beacon, Pitot heat) they read FALP, a point to remember when night flying this one.
The engine also takes a while to respond to commmands, which takes a little getting used to. During the power checks we exercise the variable pitch prop once for each blade, and that's it. One stage of flap for take-off, BIG right rudder, rotate at 65Kt, hold the nose down in ground effect, accelerate to 80Kt, then point the nose at the moon. And bugger me, it climbs away all right...
So, out to the North West for Upper air Work and to learn how to use the variable pitch propellor, which is surprisingly easy to operate:

Entering the cruise:
- Work from left to right: so retard the left hand black throttle so the manifold pressure reads the desired amount of "suck" in inches of Mercury (hey, I don't make this stuff up!), say 20"hg, then retard the middle blue prop lever to obtain the matching engine speed and retard the right hand red mixture lever to lean the mixture; about 1-1½" inches seems to do the trick

Exiting the cruise for climb or descent:
- Work from right to left: so advance the right hand red mixture lever to fully rich, advance the middle blue prop lever to fully forward and adjust the left hand black throttle to obtain the desired effect

It's very similar to a big PA-28: does the same things in the stall, and PFLs are identical except that it doesn't glide very far, but steep turns are a revelation: with all that power and the variable pitch prop you need make no adjustment to the power no matter how hard you crank it round (and I did try) to maintain height. The VSI is in a weird place and that's confusing, but you get used to it.

My Instructor suggests we head back to Oxford and assumes I know where we are, but we've turned round so many times we could be anywhere..... I think that's Banbury over there and Enstone over there, let's look confident, head sort of 140°-ish and see what happens. Indeed, my [educated] guess is right and a few minutes later the landscape reveals itself and we join crosswind for 01.

So, now how do we land this beast? I soon learn it flies the circuit best at 100Kts with 1 stage of flap, so the downwind leg is short and you have to be on the ball. Turn Base Leg, pull two stages of flap, trim for 80Kts, turn Final, pull three stages of flap and maintain 80Kts, call Final, trundle down the approach, over the threshold, flare and... bloody hell, that nose gets high. Sky hook time, ease it on to the tarmac, the stall warner chirps and we're down, nice and smooth but left of the centreline. Roll out, taxy in and shut down. Progress.

Flying the Big Bus Pt.2
Lunch has come and gone, so we need to do circuits. Start up again: it's a bugger to start when hot but we get it going eventually, fill up with a lot of fuel (this is one thirsty beast), and taxy out. My first couple of circuits are ragged as I fight the beast, but they calm down as I stop fighting it, and we proceed on to flapless landings. I've never quite seen the difficulty of flapless landings: you do exactly the same things except put the flaps down, trim for a slightly higher speed and fly the approach the same, then land it. So that's fine, although today my approaches will be mainly all over the place.

So finally we get to do a glide approach and it all falls to bits...

Being so used to flying the Cessna, in which you virtually have to turn the engine off to get it to descend, I declare a glide approach, chop the power a long way back, and watch the runway disappear over the horizon as we drop like a stone. I won't get it in from here, not by a long chalk, it becomes evident, so we throw it away, land (badly, I'm rattled), exit the runway too fast so nearly lift the inisde wheel, and taxy in.
We both agree the glide approaches need a bit more work and I need to stop landing to the left of the centreline, so we call it a day. I'm drenched with sweat and ready for a long. cold glass of water.
It's disappointing when this sort of thing happens, and it's tempting to believe that you'll never get the hang of it, but I've learned over the last couple of years that flying requires persistence and the ability to walk away, think about things and come back to the problem with a fresh mind. Also the basic rule is that being over 40 everything takes 1½ times as long to master. So we'll finish off next week.

Flying the Big Bus Pt.3
Today we'll attempt to complete the checkout, and this time rather than a formal Instructor I get Wayne as Safety pilot, which hugely reduces the stress levels. And of course Wayne knows all the little tricks like how to get the bugger started..
There are Police everywhere around the airfield (oh no, are they trying to catch me speeding again?); it turns out the poor asylum seekers next door have rioted and set light to the place. The Police helicopter is hovering overhead, so our circuits need to go around him.
Off we go, and the first landing is rubbish; I'm all over the place but at least I get it on the centre-line. Touch-and-Go, then it all calms down, and the next landing is great, and the next. I'm getting the hang of the delay in response from such a large engine.
We try a flapless and that's OK, so I decide to go for the dreaded Glide Approach. This time I err on the side of caution, waiting until we're turning Final at 1500ft before dumping the throttle, and it drops like a stone. But I'm in control and with one small engine-warming (!) we touch down gently right on the end of the runway. The next one I go even further in, as this aircraft evidently has the Lift/Drag ratio of a house brick, and I can't believe we're going to get down within the length of the runway so hang out full flap. With no throttle we go down like an express elevator, flare and touch gently. That's the closest I've ever got to a vertical descent; feels great! A real adrenaline rush.
Wayne's happy, I'm happy, so we bimble in and fuel up. I'm now checked out on a PA-32 and, by definition, allowed to fly things with wobbly props. One more step towards a complex aircraft.

Summertime.... and the flying is easy
Nessa and I have been invited to a party in a hangar at Shoreham Airport which sounds like a damned good excuse to fly down, so with just 1 hour P1 on the PA-32 and only a glass of water since the checkout, we're off. The weather forecast says "PROB30 -SHRA" so we'll wing it.
We climb out to 3,000ft and head South for Compton, then South East towards Midhurst. I can't get anything out of the primary VOR so switch to VOR2 which seems OK-ish. Once in the cruise we change to Farnborough, fly at 24"/2400rpm and lean it right back. Up comes the EGT to the line, trim for 3,000ft, set the bug on 150°, on goes the autopilot and we can relax. 140Kts indicated, or 161mph; nice....
A few minutes later we start to diverge from the track Westwards, according to the VOR and confirmed by the 3 (!) Garmin GPS's on this aircraft (one on each yoke plus mine on the coaming), which is interesting. At this speed small errors rapidly become large distances and by the time I work out what the problem is (I had slaved the DI to the compass, but not accurately enough, as it transpires - there's a lesson there) we are 5 miles to the West of track. I move the bug, let the autopilot fly us round and we fly parallel to our track for a while, it's not a problem as we know where we are, bit it was still sloppy. As I've flown to Shoreham before, the risk is one of familiarity breeding contempt.
There's a couple of NOTAM'd air displays in West Sussex we need to watch out for anyway, so I opt to remain West of track and we coast out near Arundel, where the weather is fabulous: the evening sunshine glinting on the water and the boats. Change to Shoreham Approach who ask us to join Overhead and report at 2,000ft (interesting note: it turns out that pilots who do their JAR PPL in Florida never learn to do Overhead joins; how the hell do they manage when they come back?).
We descend to the 1,000ft circuit height, cross to the Live side and turn Downwind for 20. Now, the question is, can I land this beast on Shoreham's narrow little runway that I used all of getting the Cessna in to?
This time I manage a decent approach, nail it at 80Kt with full flap, flare right on the numbers, touch gently on the centreline and we're down with loads of runway to slow down in, and a "nice landing" from Nessa; praise indeed. Clean up the aircraft, Vacate left and park outside the party hangar, how cool is that?
It's only once we open the door do we realise it's blowing a (crosswind) gale. The saying goes that the larger the aircraft, the easier it is to land, and I'm begining to believe it.

Smart right turn
Following an excellent party, we awake the following morning and after a leisurely Full English Breakfast and lots of socialising head for the field, pay landing and parking fees, load our stuff, pre-flight and start-up (no problem now, I know all the tricks).
The Tower can't see us (and can't get our registration right, either...) so ask us to pull forward until we're in their line of sight, then we get a "backtrack 20", zoom up the runway the wrong way and hide in the layby for power-checks. Once complete, we take-off and head for Bembridge for some lunch.
But the weather is looking dodgy over Bembridge; some threatening-looking clouds are coming our way, so over Chichester we decide to make a smart right turn and head back to Oxford. Back to the Midhurst beacon, can't get Shoreham to respond to our goodbye calls, change to Farnborough, make a better job of tracking the beacon outbound but I still can't make VOR1 work and VOR2 is now wandering all over the place (no, really, it's not my flying!), head for Compton, then Didcot which for some reason I can see from 50 miles away. See 2 jets, a glider (above us!) and a PA-28 we overtake with ease.

We change to Oxford Approach, forget to change squawk to 7000 for 20 miles or so (eek!), detour South of Abingdon to photograph the house then let down over the Oxford bypass for a right base join for 01. A bit more confident now, we ease in over the A44 nailed on 80Kts with full flap, flare over the numbers, flick of the stall warner and.... Oh Yes, another greaser. I'm beginning to like Delta Romeo.
Nessa thinks she might fly with me more now I've "learned to land properly"...