crazymotherswhofly

Congratulations Chris Parkes. "Mr Pilot" to the rest of us!

2005-10-30T21:53:00.000+10:00

On Friday 28^th October 2005 Chris Parkes passed his PPL.

Am I envious, of course! Would I like a brain meld, of course!

Let us raise our glasses of AVGAS to Chris Parkes. May all your skies be clear, may all your landings be smooth ones...

And thank you for sharing your pilot training journey with us through your awesome flying blog, www.ChrisParkes.com. Your humour and humility is a fine thing.

Go Chris, go!

If we were meant to fly...

2005-10-27T20:01:00.000+10:00

I was reading the recent issue of Flight Safety magazine, delivered in the post just a few days ago, and was struck by the opening line in an article about the limitations of the human eye and dangerous visual illusions.

"If we were meant to fly..." the writer begins, we would apparently have birds' eyes which have of course evolved over millions of years to arrive at what is evidently a triumph of evolution.

Naturally this observation makes all the sense in the world. We have not evolved for flight...as yet. However, we have used our puny human brains to provide any number of aids and reduce the risk of having the 'wrong' eyes so that we can fly as safely as possible.

But no, we do not have eagle eyes, or even garden variety pidgeon eyes. Or for that matter, fly's eyes (which would probably be perfect for helicopter pilots).

What we do have are the kind of eyes that are wonderful for lumbering about, staring at this and that, and handy for running in a relatively straight line at something that is also running in a relatively straight line (like a grubby two year old heading for the mall exit, for instance).

But what grabbed me when I read it was "If we were meant to fly..." sounded like one of those reckless comments you make in a packed pub when you've had 22 glasses too many and you have forgotten that this lot would lay their life down for the team you just insulted.

Okay, yes, our eyes are not DESIGNED for flying. We have not EVOLVED for flight. I'll remember to say that next time I hop on to a packed Gold Coast to Sydney Virgin Blue plane. Won't that go down a treat...

Now, let's have a look at some birdie deficiences. Birds do not look like they are meant to do anything but fly, which is apparent every time you see one walk. They look dumb. Birds can't talk, except for one or two freaks of nature, but the rest sound like maniacal schizos who haven't had today's meds.

And another thing about birds, how come their oh so fantastic eyes lead them right into the path of PLANES!

Gold Coast Wind and Not Just The Ladies Who Do Lunch

2005-09-23T11:41:00.000+10:00

I'm on the Gold Coast, as some of you may know, and I'm looking out the window today and it is WINDY!

And I think we have already established in other posts on this blog that I am afraid of crosswinds. (Afraid and crap at it too).

Oh and did I mention wind shear - jeez, that's enough to make you think about life insurance, the three kids, etc....

So please, please, please send me your crosswind and wind shear tips ASAP.

Or I won't go flying, no I won't!

I worship at the altar of LEGO

2005-09-12T23:17:00.000+10:00

I have two sons and between them they have 4,000,000 pieces of Lego (oh sorry, that's how much I've paid for their Lego...) My boys - OD and his little bro - are Da Vinci style Lego geniuses and their creations quite simply just leave me gobsmacked (and let's face it thinking about what kind of nursing home can be financed by engineers).

But seriously for sheer elegance, creativity, and philipino-suburb-escheresque-bloody-complexity I am one proud parent.

However, and go with me on this, we must come to the obvious conclusion that Lego is not created by humans but delivered here by kindly aliens (who are financing their eventual take over with 1,000% mark-up on injection moulded plastic).

I know Lego is from aliens because it is perfect in every way. For evidence I give you the Star Wars range. OD, who just turned 7 got the new x-wing fighter with Yoda's hut thrown in for good measure as his major birthday present. After we pulled OD off the ceiling because he had floated up there in rapturous delight, he got down to the very serious business of tranforming 2,678 pieces of tiny plastic bricks (and other hellishly clever shapes) into a fully fledged x-wing figthter that any Jedi would kill to fly.

Daddy and OD polished it off in no time and the result? OMG it's a dream, it's a vision, it's bloody amazing and if only I could shrink down to slightly under 1 inch I could love it like a cessna. Yes, it could be my very own light aircraft and if I work really hard on learning the force I could retrieve it from swamps, fences and the like.

Please, God, make me into a Lego character!! Or at least, and it's not my dying wish, cuz I'm healthy now that I don't have the plague anymore, DOES ANYONE KNOW A LEGO ENGINEER so that I can kiss his or her feet?

Okay, failing any of the above coming true all I ask is that you, my blogger mates, email me, pigeon me, or whatever it takes as soon as you hear even a whisper that Lego is going public. Instantly I will stop bidding on more fiendishly clever Lego kits and start plowing ALL of my money into shares.

Yes!

Would you like a little plane with your car?

2005-09-12T21:56:00.000+10:00

Hmmm, I've just read the SMH online (as Chris my wise blogger inspiration, famously of www.chrisparkes.com puts it "pinko commie tirade") and evidently a light aircraft had engine trouble during take off which resulted in it crashing through a fence and flipping over and landing (not in a plane kind of way) on a parked car.

Holy Guano Bat Boy, but I hope some poor guy wasn't minding his own business having lunch in his parked car when a bloody cessna comes flying (once again I must use this term prosaicly) through a flimsy fence barrier and spreads itself all over the front of his car.

At the end of the news item, someone helpfully adds - in a premature loser kind of way - that it was 'pilot error'. Okay, yes, we are safe in saying that no pilot INTENDS to fly through a fence when there is reported 'engine failure' but gee if the fence is there and you're going bloody fast in an aborted take-off...well, by golly END OF FENCE is all I can say.

Thank god the three fellows (with at least one now 'ex-pilot' amongst them) are all okay, and apparently the only thing wrong is wiping away the foam that was sprayed liberally all over the whole scene.

Good is foam. Bad is death. Pretty simple really.

Anyway, shall we wait and see what the investigation shows us Little Grasshopper? Or shall we jump, jump, jump to all kinds of bloody conclusions instantly?

Oh god do I want to fly!

2005-09-11T16:52:00.000+10:00

It's Sunday today and it's been an absolutely normal Sunday - cleaning, doing stuff with the kids, checking out various news stories, emailing, ebaying, etc, etc - but with one exception: today a light aircraft buzzed the house (the neighbourhood really).

Damn it but I couldn't stop what I was doing at the time and go running outside to see who and what it was!!

But OH GOD did I want to check out the flying eye candy! What kind of plane was it, how many seats....would I have seen the whites of their eyeballs? Would I have seen the smile on their face? Would I have seen the letters?

Lucky dogs, that's all I can say.

Well, next week, cross fingers, it will be me...

Coughs are for spreading flu, not a defence mechanism!

2005-09-08T22:33:00.000+10:00

Just like garlic worn around the neck is not intended to make you into a chick or guy magnet, coughing is not a 'defence mechanism' as I read recently. In fact, coughing is your body hijacked by zillions of paramilitary parasites who with every dusty hair-in-the-gob reflex make you spread these insidious critters far and wide.

Every cough spreads whatever illness you have at least a metre fanned out 180 degrees, plus handily spreads it wherever these hateful little guys land: on your hands, on your phone, on your kid, etc.

So I hear you asking: Flygirl have you been flying? NO! I have been helping microscopic organisms to fly! Damn it!

Okay, now pray that this weekend I am well enough to fly and not make my instructor sorry I turned up!

WALKS TO THE BEAT OF HIS OWN DRUM

2005-08-17T19:26:00.000+10:00

Kids...

Let me tell you the story of a little boy who I shall call Walks to the Beat of His Own Drum or WTTBHOD for short. Okay, that's too long. How about just OD?

OD, a gangly little guy who's almost 7, who can do several magic tricks with the flair of a Las Vegas pro, who eats two green apples a night after dinner, and who isn't always saintly in his Pokemon dealings, did 8 naughty things while at school today.

[Cut to OD's mother sitting at her office desk and completely oblivious to OD's hectic schedule (you gotta get up early if you want to do this many naughty things in the one day, believe me).]

Most of OD's infractions were not on the "breathtakingly bad" side of the Naughty Scale but a bit past middle point to land neatly in "very bad" territory. If I was to add a colour bar at this moment, I would say we are leaving orange and veering toward red.

Here's what OD managed to get through today:

1. took old mobile phone claiming it was his show and tell item
2. show and tell is on Friday (stupid mummy should have read the flyer)
3. played with said mobile phone even when told several times by his teacher to put it away
4. mobile phone was confisicated and taken to Student Services where it will stay until mummy picks it up (after being read the riot act and sub section 4.5 regarding appropriate usage of dead mobile phones at school)
5. Attempts to use small change at tuck shop to buy nutritional chocolates when small child has already been told that he is not allowed to take part in financial transactions of this type until 2008
6. takes a special silver bag of his sister's to school
7. takes a special bracelet of his sister's to school
8. both bracelet and bag were in sister's room so these items are contraband that needed a ninja to get past her school and sports bags and other early morning rubble.

Okay, this is a full accounting of actual bad things done by OD in one day.

Now OD's timing was a real shame because today he received his first ever school award. A light green paper cut out and yes, anyone would say just a mere facsimile of a real blue ribbon with it's deep indigo folds, satiny button, neatly clipped trailing ends. But when you've waited two years, dreamed of receiving this award and sat through endless assemblies without ever hearing your name, and finally one day this gestalt blue ribbon is pinned on your uniform in front of 200 fidgeting kids, well, it as precious as an Oscar.

Naturally it is this glowing, dreamy experience that one would want to focus on when one sees one's mother at the day's end. Various notes from the teacher, and stern talkings to by the junior school principal all fade into ancient history; simply become scudding clouds on an otherwise brillant day.

OD trys hard, he really does. But of late he has specialised in being an Expert Boy. He is so boy that the other day when OD emptied his pockets out fell quintessential Boy Stuff: a tiny screw driver, a nicely shaped rock, a few paper clips, a tiny piece of driftwood shaped just like a crocodile, a twenty cent piece and a miniature aftershave tube salvaged from stuff Dad deemed unusable from last Christmas. A boy could do fairly nicely for himself with this smart collection.

Also in OD's expert boy instalment plan has been teaching himself magic tricks and amazing his family and friends with a sleight of hand so polished old guys named Morty are ringing up for classes. Not to mention, zing zing style showmanship that naturally includes a dazzling and distracting smile, perfect timing and an improbable repetoire ("how does he make that pencil looking like it's magnetised to his palm??").

OD is also pretty hand with codes: Pokemon codes, Star Wars codes, codes involving cartoonnetwork.com, etc. OD can, on any given Saturday, whip up Lego masterpieces - intricate Star Wars freighters and weird and wonderful robots of every style; stuff old Da Vinci would kill for!

But alas, OD's extracurricular activities are discovered at 3.35pm and there's a nasty scene involving a loss of afternoon tea and exile to the top bunk. To make matter's worse, OD had thrown away his beautiful paper award ribbon while racked with guilt. And in a continental tragedy, Dad's unexpected efficiency in the rubbish department meant a final and utter loss of said award.

Well, OD's in bed now. It's been an eventful day and he's stuffed. But tomorrow, well it's only 379 days until the next award, and in the meantime, each day is filled with sheer voluptuous opportunity to savour life's rewards (even if they are slimey or involve contraband from your sister's room).

Sunday vice Saturday

2005-08-14T21:10:00.000+10:00

Wow, same conditions (10kts masquerading as 15) and yet a completely different flight. I guess there are a few reasons for this:

1. My usual instructor flew with me (very important - this guys knows me so damn well) and so I felt settled and familiar.

2. I knew what to expect (oh, boy, did I know what to expect).

3. I really wanted to make this second experience count - I am determined to progress OUT of the circuits and move on to preparing for my first area solo.

4. I had been thinking about this flight ALL WEEK, and last night it was really windy so I assumed that it might be similar conditions again.

And the result? Well, I moved forward. I did lovely, neat rectangles (smartening up my circuits was a key goal). The crosswind was on runway 14, so I didn't land the plane without help, but I set it up nicely and was very close but we got some windshear that meant we dropped like a lead balloon on the flare out.

We moved to the cross runway 17 and did two circuits here and I landed okay - not a greaser like I'm used to and needed more left rudder to maintain the centre line but it wasn't too shabby.

Also, I spoke to the new owner of the school and they have major plans to bring this school up to par. The school has been in a 70s time warp and absolutely no money has been put back into it. Basair it's not.

So the big news is that all the planes I've flown are being replaced and next week I'll be flying SPU - lovely name, wouldn't you agree? Hopefully it will never live up to it's name! So they are going to Cessnas now. Thank god not everything over 35 years old gets scrapped!

First solo June 11, 2005

2005-08-10T22:26:00.000+10:00

Anyone who's had a first solo can attest to the weird combination of shock and cockiness that makes you alternately say, "yes of course I can fly" with "holy crap, I'm flying!"

During the dual circuit before I went solo my instructor randomly began stuffing around with the vents in the plane for the first time. The idea that you could have fresh air never occured to me so I was a bit taken aback by him reaching over and opening low tech 1960s plastic vents while I'm trying to site a Virgin jet on approach.

Then, next thing I know, he's claimed utter boredom, gotten out of the plane and whacked me out of the nest. So I line up, take off from runway 14 head into a left hand circuit, bring the power down to to 2400, do BUMFISH, and all of a sudden its so blowy. I'm thinking geez those little vents can really crank it out.

For those of you who know exactly what's coming next all I ask is don't tell my Mum or my husband because they will freak. First of all don't tell my Mum because she began sorting out my last will and testament as soon as I told her I was flying so that I stopped telling her about flying lessons and now the entire family knows to tell her I'm shopping no matter when she rings. Thank god for extended shopping hours.

Don't tell my hubby because he loves me and has gritted his teeth enough times about his crazy wife flying much less flying something the size of a romantic table for two with wings (and continuing on with the table for two theme - paying each Saturday for lessons that cost as much as a steak and lobster dinner for two with 30 year old Grange - the kind of expensive, celebratory meal you have once every 10 years or so).

So, yes, you (all 2 of you) guessed it: my instructor's door was open. So at 1,000 ft I'm trying to have a text book solo here, AND trying to slam the goddamn door shut. Well eventually it's time to call ready for base, which I do hoping that no one notices how windy it sounds.

I get myself a nice profile, land nice and sweet, call ground, etc, etc. Tower is nice enough to congratulate me on my first solo and here I am trying to be gracious in return and transform jelly back into legs.

Of course as I found out LATER, the door would never have 'flown' open per se. So I guess I wasted my time going, "Holy sh**! I'm flying a plane with the door open!".

What I want to achieve on Saturday

2005-08-09T12:19:00.000+10:00

When I head out to flying lessons on Saturday I want to nail my circuit - nice and neat, great radio calls, land a greaser, etc so that I can get back to logging solo time.

I'm going to sit here in my office chair at some point and imagine the damn rectangle and fly it before I fly it. God willing no one will come in and see me sitting there with one hand straight out in front of me on the imaginary control column and the other sticking it over the throttle. I'll look like Frankenstine who prefers to sit while scaring the crap out of the peasants.

Assuming I can get back to solo standard again the fact is I have to study up for the gfpt and frankly every time I crack open the flying manuals I get all dazed out and want to sleep (okay the shiraz doesn't help...).

I seem to be the sort of person that totally learns from hearing, doing and seeing - reading puts me to sleep and no matter how many times I read and re-read. It's as if I have a non-stick brain. Teflon's great for pans, bad for pilots.

But seriously can you learn to fly without reading - NO. One must read. Geez... what am I to do.

Now the one thing I did get out of last week's disastrous crosswind experience is that my new instructor showed me that the first radio call of the morning (the one where they throw everything at you and expect you to read it back and sound way cool while you do so) should be no drama if you see your ATIS as providing all the information you need. So long as nothing's changed I will know what runway's active, where I'm crossing or holding, I know I'm in circuit or the training area, and that just leaves the sqwak.

Anyway, wish me luck and send me aluminum-pot-burnt-porridge stick to it'iveness!

Crap crosswind lesson - not 10kts - more like 15!

2005-08-08T16:00:00.000+10:00

For some crazy reason I'm learning how to fly. I've got around 26 or more hours - not sure because I counted every second until I got to 20 hours, went solo twice and then for some reason, completely stopped counting my hours after this.

Most flying has been an amazing experience. But last Saturday, well I had a totally crap crosswind experience. Made me want to give the whole hideously expensive game away. But it's back in the saddle next weekend!

I'm in a total slump at the moment mainly because I've missed a week here or there: I've forgotten things I know well, and can't seem to take in any new stuff. I've mainly had greasers for landings, for some reason I nailed that early on. But on Saturday I didn't land the plane once. The instructor brought us in each time.

And anyone observing my circuits (yes, shamefully I am back to bloody circuits) would have thought I was tanked up or just nuts. Had a new instructor too, so got to look like a complete freak with someone new, not my co-dependent. He summed it all up nicely when he said, "well you lost the plot didn't you". Yes, lost the plot, nearly bought the plot.

Still, I can't wait 'til next Saturday!