Today, I did my intro flight at UVU Aviation.
As a boy, I remember flying with my Grandpa. Since then, I've always wanted to be able
to fly. In high school, I dreamed of being a career pilot. While I was on my mission, some suggestions from family caused me to realize that being a pilot would challenge my church attendance and my ability to be a father and husband. Besides, I wanted something that was fun and cool to stay fun and cool and not become something I did every day. Career piloting was out. But I have not forgotten my powerful passion for airplanes, and I have not forgotten the dream of being able to fly someday. It'll have to wait until I can figure out how to afford it.
As a kid, I had spent countless hours in the encyclopedia, at airshows and on the internet, admiring all kinds of airplanes, learning aviation history, studying everything from basic aerodynamic principles to radio navigation. I've learned all I can learn without actually taking flying lessons. The only thing left to do was go and fly. Not having money for lessons or the fuel and airplane rental to keep flying, I decided to be content with continuing my internet studies. But then I found UVU Aviation offers an introductory flight for fifty dollars. I knew what I wanted my wife to get me for my birthday.
The appointed day was cloudy and a little bit windy, but the weather was supposed to be calm enough to be borderline for flying. At about four in the afternoon, Trent Olsen from the university called me to confirm our appointment. He wanted to make sure I was okay with the ride being a little bumpy. I was.
After work, I hopped on my motorcycle and rode down to the airport - it's becoming a familiar route now! They had me fill out some paperwork. They checked my driver's license to be sure I really was me. Trent came out and we shook hands. He seemed genuinely excited to be going flying with me. He gave me a headset, and, having left my backpack in his office, we went out onto the ramp to pre-flight our airplane.
The airplane was a Diamond Katana - a two-seater with a small engine and a little bit of luggage space behind us. I stood by and watched as Trent checked the tire pressure on the landing gear, tweaked the control linkages on the ailerons and elevators, and dipped a stick into the fuel tank to see how deep it was. "We're okay on fuel" he said. Then it was time to open the canopy, step up onto the wing, and down into the airplane. He had me sit in the pilot's seat, and began explaining things. I actually was going to be flying the airplane! He said that because of the wind conditions, he'd have to do the takeoff and landing - that surprised me; I was expecting him to do those things anyway, and just let me "put my hands on the controls" once we got in the air.
We closed the canopy, latching it down on my side and his. The cockpit was cramped to the point of being a tight fit with both of us in it. It had the conventional instruments - a dizzying array of round dials that show you everything the airplane is doing: what direction you're going, how high you're flying, how hard the engine is working, whether you're going up and down - it was all pretty familiar stuff to me, except for his autopilot and navigation equipment. He flipped some switches... master, avionics, fuel pump. Then he moved the fuel mixture level to full rich and hit the starter. The engine turned and turned and turned, and then caught. It was a louder, rougher sound than a car, but still surprisingly quiet. The rumbling engine made the whole airplane vibrate. He showed me how to work the brakes - left and right with my toe pedals, and the rudder with my foot pedals. He had me push the throttle open just a touch and step on one brake, then the other, testing. He did the same on his side. Then, he fiddled with the radio until we heard the ATIS broadcast. They gave us information about wind speed and direction, temperature, dew point, altitude density, altimiter two-niner-niner-niner... our altimeter setting in inches of mercury: twenty-nine point nine-nine. Trent set the altimeter and verified that it was indicating correct field altitude. He double checked the gyro compass against the magnetic compass and gave it a tiny adjustment.
He then contacted Provo Ground and asked for a clearance to taxi over to the run-up area. They gave it and we did a giant U-turn out of the UVU parking area over into the space next door. He turned us around and showed me as he ran the throttles up. He tested the alternator by turning it on and off to see what the voltage level would be - twelve without, and fourteen with it on. We waited until the oil temperature started coming up. When it did, he cut the throttle, and the engine returned to its rumbling idle, the mass of the propeller gently rocking the airplane.
Trent pushed the throttle a bit and nudged us back out onto taxiway Alpha. He confirmed my suspicion that in an airplane this size, you really have to keep your speed down on the taxiway unless you want to get into trouble for doing a premature takeoff. Our ten-knot tailwind helped keep us on the ground too. We crossed runway three-six, then turned onto runway three-one. We turned and stopped at the hold-short line. It was time to take off. Trent contacted Provo Tower. They gave us clearance for an east departure - we wanted to head out to Heber and back. He pushed the throttle all the way forward. The engine awoke from its lazy stupor and sprang to life, pulling us down the runway faster and faster. It wasn't like the Beechcraft Baron I'd flown in before; it didn't exactly press us into our seats. Sooner than I expected, our airspeed hit about fifty-five knots and Trent pulled back on the control stick, causing the nose to come off the ground. We lifted into the sky. With our stiff head wind and low climbing speed, we gained altitude quickly. It seemed like we were going almost as fast upward as we were forward. Before I knew it we were passing forty-eight hundred feet - some four hundred feet off the ground. At that altitude, I was surprised to be able to look down and see a third of the runway and below and still in front of us. It took another twenty or thirty seconds of forward flight to get to where we were no longer over the runway.
Looking eastward, we noticed that a big cloud was covering the mountaintops, menacing the entrance to Provo canyon - our intended route over to Heber. We wondered if the canyon would be clouded over before we could return safely. We decided we were safer to turn south toward Nephi. Trent contacted the tower again to amend our departure. "Southern departure approved as requested".
We made a left turn, one hundred eighty degrees to the south, and passed abeam the airport, with the runway to our left. It's funny how, even though you're going ninety knots (just over a hundred miles an hour), it feels like you're just creeping along out in the wide open spaces three thousand feet above the ground.
As we passed over a mountain ridge to the south of Provo, I saw our altitude fluctuate all over the place. I'd adjust power to compensate for a slow climb, only to have the airplane start to sink. Adjust again, and then it changes into a climb. Trent and I chatted somewhat as we soaked in the scenery on our way toward Nephi. He wanted to be an airline pilot, but was working as a flight instructor and intro pilot to build hours. I expressed to him my wish that somehow I could afford to fly a small airplane. What I wouldn't give to be able to do our family road trips in an airplane instead!
We reached a small lake north of the Nephi airfield and decided it was getting time to turn around. Trent tuned the radio over to the ATIS, where we got our weather update and current runway back at the airport. Nothing had changed - still information Charlie. Trent told me to power down for descent toward the airport. I set us up for a descent rate of five hundred feet per minute, and we continued chatting and enjoying our view of Utah valley and the lake as we descended.
When we hit fifty-five hundred feet, I powered up again to level us off. We were at pattern altitude for our approach to the airport. Trent took over the controls, powered us down again for final approach into Provo. The tower notified us that the winds had changed and asked if we wanted to come in on the other runway for better alignment with the wind. We took them up on it - straight in for landing on runway three-six. As we neared the ground, Trent pitched us upward to slow us down for landing. The slower we flew, the more it felt like we were landing a helicopter. This tiny little airplane couldn't make as much headway in the ten-and-fifteen-knot headwind. The airplane was squirrelly on short final, but we managed to have a nice, smooth touchdown anyway. Trent said something about how he would have let me land the airplane if it hadn't been for the wind. Darn!
We taxied back to UVU and parked the airplane. I found one of the tie-down chains and hooked it onto the tail while Trent did the others. It was neat to think this little machine had taken us up to more than a mile above the ground. What a way to see creation!
I don't know if I'll ever get to fly - especially in my own airplane, but I can dream. So I'll continue to study and learn everything I can - partly in preparation for that day, and partly just because it helps me dream.
As a boy, I remember flying with my Grandpa. Since then, I've always wanted to be able
As a kid, I had spent countless hours in the encyclopedia, at airshows and on the internet, admiring all kinds of airplanes, learning aviation history, studying everything from basic aerodynamic principles to radio navigation. I've learned all I can learn without actually taking flying lessons. The only thing left to do was go and fly. Not having money for lessons or the fuel and airplane rental to keep flying, I decided to be content with continuing my internet studies. But then I found UVU Aviation offers an introductory flight for fifty dollars. I knew what I wanted my wife to get me for my birthday.
The appointed day was cloudy and a little bit windy, but the weather was supposed to be calm enough to be borderline for flying. At about four in the afternoon, Trent Olsen from the university called me to confirm our appointment. He wanted to make sure I was okay with the ride being a little bumpy. I was.
After work, I hopped on my motorcycle and rode down to the airport - it's becoming a familiar route now! They had me fill out some paperwork. They checked my driver's license to be sure I really was me. Trent came out and we shook hands. He seemed genuinely excited to be going flying with me. He gave me a headset, and, having left my backpack in his office, we went out onto the ramp to pre-flight our airplane.
The airplane was a Diamond Katana - a two-seater with a small engine and a little bit of luggage space behind us. I stood by and watched as Trent checked the tire pressure on the landing gear, tweaked the control linkages on the ailerons and elevators, and dipped a stick into the fuel tank to see how deep it was. "We're okay on fuel" he said. Then it was time to open the canopy, step up onto the wing, and down into the airplane. He had me sit in the pilot's seat, and began explaining things. I actually was going to be flying the airplane! He said that because of the wind conditions, he'd have to do the takeoff and landing - that surprised me; I was expecting him to do those things anyway, and just let me "put my hands on the controls" once we got in the air.
We closed the canopy, latching it down on my side and his. The cockpit was cramped to the point of being a tight fit with both of us in it. It had the conventional instruments - a dizzying array of round dials that show you everything the airplane is doing: what direction you're going, how high you're flying, how hard the engine is working, whether you're going up and down - it was all pretty familiar stuff to me, except for his autopilot and navigation equipment. He flipped some switches... master, avionics, fuel pump. Then he moved the fuel mixture level to full rich and hit the starter. The engine turned and turned and turned, and then caught. It was a louder, rougher sound than a car, but still surprisingly quiet. The rumbling engine made the whole airplane vibrate. He showed me how to work the brakes - left and right with my toe pedals, and the rudder with my foot pedals. He had me push the throttle open just a touch and step on one brake, then the other, testing. He did the same on his side. Then, he fiddled with the radio until we heard the ATIS broadcast. They gave us information about wind speed and direction, temperature, dew point, altitude density, altimiter two-niner-niner-niner... our altimeter setting in inches of mercury: twenty-nine point nine-nine. Trent set the altimeter and verified that it was indicating correct field altitude. He double checked the gyro compass against the magnetic compass and gave it a tiny adjustment.
He then contacted Provo Ground and asked for a clearance to taxi over to the run-up area. They gave it and we did a giant U-turn out of the UVU parking area over into the space next door. He turned us around and showed me as he ran the throttles up. He tested the alternator by turning it on and off to see what the voltage level would be - twelve without, and fourteen with it on. We waited until the oil temperature started coming up. When it did, he cut the throttle, and the engine returned to its rumbling idle, the mass of the propeller gently rocking the airplane.
Trent pushed the throttle a bit and nudged us back out onto taxiway Alpha. He confirmed my suspicion that in an airplane this size, you really have to keep your speed down on the taxiway unless you want to get into trouble for doing a premature takeoff. Our ten-knot tailwind helped keep us on the ground too. We crossed runway three-six, then turned onto runway three-one. We turned and stopped at the hold-short line. It was time to take off. Trent contacted Provo Tower. They gave us clearance for an east departure - we wanted to head out to Heber and back. He pushed the throttle all the way forward. The engine awoke from its lazy stupor and sprang to life, pulling us down the runway faster and faster. It wasn't like the Beechcraft Baron I'd flown in before; it didn't exactly press us into our seats. Sooner than I expected, our airspeed hit about fifty-five knots and Trent pulled back on the control stick, causing the nose to come off the ground. We lifted into the sky. With our stiff head wind and low climbing speed, we gained altitude quickly. It seemed like we were going almost as fast upward as we were forward. Before I knew it we were passing forty-eight hundred feet - some four hundred feet off the ground. At that altitude, I was surprised to be able to look down and see a third of the runway and below and still in front of us. It took another twenty or thirty seconds of forward flight to get to where we were no longer over the runway.
Looking eastward, we noticed that a big cloud was covering the mountaintops, menacing the entrance to Provo canyon - our intended route over to Heber. We wondered if the canyon would be clouded over before we could return safely. We decided we were safer to turn south toward Nephi. Trent contacted the tower again to amend our departure. "Southern departure approved as requested".
We made a left turn, one hundred eighty degrees to the south, and passed abeam the airport, with the runway to our left. It's funny how, even though you're going ninety knots (just over a hundred miles an hour), it feels like you're just creeping along out in the wide open spaces three thousand feet above the ground.
As we passed over a mountain ridge to the south of Provo, I saw our altitude fluctuate all over the place. I'd adjust power to compensate for a slow climb, only to have the airplane start to sink. Adjust again, and then it changes into a climb. Trent and I chatted somewhat as we soaked in the scenery on our way toward Nephi. He wanted to be an airline pilot, but was working as a flight instructor and intro pilot to build hours. I expressed to him my wish that somehow I could afford to fly a small airplane. What I wouldn't give to be able to do our family road trips in an airplane instead!
We reached a small lake north of the Nephi airfield and decided it was getting time to turn around. Trent tuned the radio over to the ATIS, where we got our weather update and current runway back at the airport. Nothing had changed - still information Charlie. Trent told me to power down for descent toward the airport. I set us up for a descent rate of five hundred feet per minute, and we continued chatting and enjoying our view of Utah valley and the lake as we descended.
When we hit fifty-five hundred feet, I powered up again to level us off. We were at pattern altitude for our approach to the airport. Trent took over the controls, powered us down again for final approach into Provo. The tower notified us that the winds had changed and asked if we wanted to come in on the other runway for better alignment with the wind. We took them up on it - straight in for landing on runway three-six. As we neared the ground, Trent pitched us upward to slow us down for landing. The slower we flew, the more it felt like we were landing a helicopter. This tiny little airplane couldn't make as much headway in the ten-and-fifteen-knot headwind. The airplane was squirrelly on short final, but we managed to have a nice, smooth touchdown anyway. Trent said something about how he would have let me land the airplane if it hadn't been for the wind. Darn!
We taxied back to UVU and parked the airplane. I found one of the tie-down chains and hooked it onto the tail while Trent did the others. It was neat to think this little machine had taken us up to more than a mile above the ground. What a way to see creation!
I don't know if I'll ever get to fly - especially in my own airplane, but I can dream. So I'll continue to study and learn everything I can - partly in preparation for that day, and partly just because it helps me dream.
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