Archives for August 2005
The Yard of Ale
‘The Admiral’ Alastair Cross writes
How did you get on with the yard of Speights?! Rather worrying reading that account of the test!!
In fact, surprisingly well. Just over two minutes and without ’shouting’, unlike many who try. Whilst I’m not a big fan of drinking challenges, there are times when you have to do these things. Passing your PPL is one of them!
Here’s some evidence.
The Second Test
Skip to the end: I’ve passed my flight test and am now a pilot. Yay! If you’re more aviationally minded, here’s a summary of how the flight test went.
After the disappointment of failing my first flight test I was feeling quite nervous about the prospect of a resit. I’ve done about ten hours of flying since Dunedin, plus had a month back in the UK, and felt I was a better pilot because of it, if only since I had a greater appreciation of things like trim and balance.
I knew that I was capable of passing the test, but not confident I would do it. Tried working on a positive mental attitude but it didn’t completely work! Although I was more worried that I’d told too many people here I was taking the test and had started having visions of passing, but would then fail get embarassed. The things that concerned me most were forced landings and precautionary landings, mainly as there is a lot to plan and remember compared with a basic turn or circuit.
Just before eight I arrived at the Aero Club and pre-flighted the aircraft. Despite trying to start the engine several times, it would not fire up, so I placed the pre-heater underneath (a home made device using a fan heater and foil tubing) to warm things up. At least it wasn’t -6C, unlike in June.
My examiner was Carlton Campbell, the ex-Chief Flight Instructor at the club, who’s down for a few days of instructing instructors. By all accounts he’s a flying legend, and is effectively responsible for flight training standards in New Zealand, so if anyone knows whether or not I’m a suitable candidate, it’s him!
The weather this morning was looking unpredictable with a miserable forecast:
TAF NZQN 212135Z 212112
02010KT 20KM -SHRA BKN090
BECMG 0103 26008KT
2000FT WIND 35030KT
BECMG 0103 31020KT =
Of course, a key part of flying is knowing your own limits. Visibility of 20km is less than I’d be comfortable with at this stage but I expected I’d still be taken up for the test.
First up, the technical knowledge and weather checks. Got through these okay, although the crazy format of the Tecnam flight manual didn’t help, and my performance planning was fine. Time to head outside for the flight test.
After dropping a clanger about the mass balance on the flaps on my previous test (if you don’t know what a mass balance is, don’t worry about it, just remember that you need one), I was tighter on the pre-flight inspection and survived that, as well as the role-playing of stupid passenger and private pilot.
Having detached the pre-heater and pulled the aircraft out, I tried to start up with the choke in. Having flown 78 of WAK’s 160 hours, I should know what I’m doing, but the aircraft just wouldn’t catch, again. Having summoned help I realised that the engine was now so warm from an hour and a half’s pre-heat, that the choke was making things worse. D’oh! At least it started after the choke was in.
Having completed my pre-flight checks I gained clearance before realising I’d not completed engine run-ups! That done, we taxied out to the far end of Runway 23, a last minute request for backtrack and we were off.
With the carb heat still on. Duh.
My compass turns were iffy, since I got the calculations wrong and tried counting rather than just using the compass (ask me to explain another day).Steep turns were better than usual, although exited one a little high, and finally remembered to report I’d cleared airspace about a minute too late. Up to 4,500′ for stalls where I gained up to 100′ on the entry to each stall, although recovered them reasonably. Within limits but still scrappy.
Reading the reports of other students on their flight tests, it seems that forced landings are a problem. Well, beat this one. I chose the field, was happy with my 1,000′ point, and got down (although forgot a couple of trouble checks). But I turned in too soon and was hot and high for the landing, and would have missed the strip completely in real life. I made the go-around decision early, thankfully, and got a second chance. Although the examiner’s first words in the debrief were broadly ‘if I had my way, students would only get one chance at a forced landing, and I’d fail your test if you failed that exercise’.
The second attempt was much better and I got into the strip. Then climbed out with the carb heat on. Doh.
Over for some low flying, which was alright although I lost height in the turns. The precautionary landing was acceptable although I forgot a couple of checks and came in rather low, plus I left the carb heat in once. Doh. Normally I never do that.
Finally it was back to Queenstown and some circuits whilst the clouds closed in. For once the TAF was wrong, and for once my straight and level flight was straight and level.
The standard overhead rejoin went well but my precision landing was not very precise. I didn’t call a decision point and was about 15 metres short of the markers. I called a go-around about 5′ off the ground and touched the wheels, almost without thinking about it, but it sounds like if I’d not made the go-around then I could have failed. The second attempt was marginally better, and the flapless was fine after dumbelling onto the 23 runway to cater for a landing 737, and then it was back to the Club.
The suspense didn’t last too long and I soon found out that I’d passed, albeit with a detailed series of caveats. I’d never like to go through that stress again, at least not until my commercial licence, and that will be a long way off…
So, I’m a private pilot, or at least will be when I receive the licence in the post. And now I’m off to the pub. I believe club tradition is downing a yard of ale (probably Speights, eugh), so wish me luck.
Phew.
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Freeway blogging
Thanks to the inestimable talents of Banksy, graffiti is now art, so dissenters (or Democrats) need a new form of expression. Browsing through Banksy’s website I came across a link to the Freeway Blogger.
In the US automobile society, there can be no better way to catch the attention of thousands of people with a simple message. Plus it doesn’t leave stains, involve complex tags, scratch tube train windows or stick to the soles of your shoes.
His manifesto is simple: ‘it’s my right, my responsibility and my pleasure’.
Freakanomics
There’s a lot of fuss at the moment about Freakanomics, a book that explores ‘the hidden side of everything’, using multiple regression to identify unexpected links between economic and sociological factors. It’s currently an astonishing eighth on the Amazon UK bestseller list. Let me save you some time; rather than read the whole book, here’s the original New York Times article which Freakanomics pads out to feature length.
I like the concepts underlying Levitt’s thinking, and these types of statistical analyses are the foundation any good social scientist’s work. The risk is when such data becomes used to justify political viewpoints, for example Charles Murray’s notorious description of an ‘underclass‘ in British society.
Statistics have become big news in the UK public sector, with complex performance indicators being set by central government across every type of service. My good friends working in the public sector are frequently critical of these measures as they suggest that their work becomes focused on manipulating activity to meet the indicators rather than changing working practices to improve service delivery. As an outsider, I’d argue that without objective measures it’s impossible to assess performance and change over time.
It’s a difficult balance to strike. Perhaps the measures could be simpler; but we still need to be able to assess the effectiveness of public services. For more about this, look at The Prime Minister’s Delivery Unit, if only for the archetypical Blairite language on the first page.
Lies, damn lies, statistics, etc.
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Back in Queenstown
After a gruelling three days of travelling, I’m back in Queenstown for another couple of months. I was in two minds when setting off and very sad to leave behind friends and family, but also knew that I’d be kicking myself if I hadn’t done it. It’s nice to be back here and receive warm greetings from lots of familiar faces, some even before I’d left the airport.
Things have clearly fallen apart since I was last up the mountain. Here’s the top letter from this week’s issue of the local rag, Mountain Scene, under the headline ‘Brasserie’s Sour Taste’.
I want to congratulate Coronet Peak [on new lifts and snow making]…However, there’s a service failure at the Coronet Brasserie.
Recently, I visited with a guest to Queenstown. Seven staff were visible behind the bar and there were four guests in the restaurant.
I still had to go to the counter and order. At the empty counter, I was told by the staff member relacing there to line up for the waiter who was busy with a customer. I waited, ordered drinks and paid.
After the drinks were made, a staff member called out a number. I then had to get up from my chair, leave my guest and – in front of the seven staff members who were still relaxing doing nothing – go and get drinks from the counter. Service extraordinaire!
If I’d been there, he’d have got a round of applause for getting up off his lazy arse.
Good news: I still have a job up the mountain. (Really) bad news: there has been one fall of snow since I left a month ago, and the runs are pretty icy with no off-piste (as if I’d try…). Good news: the house now has broadband, so I can listen to the cricket commentary. Bad news: download cap is 1GB a month! This country is so third world.
Best ever shaving cream
I hope we’re agreed there’s nothing wrong with the more basic forms of metrosexuality , and may be familiar with some of the more highly priced men’s grooming products, if only because we’ve looked at them and thought ‘Christ, that’s expensive tat’. But there are still some things where old fashioned is best.
I bought this tiny tube of shaving cream in Kathmandu in October last year, and it lasted until the middle of July. Now, I wasn’t shaving every day but I’m still amazed at how it provided an endless supply of lather from the smallest drop of gel. I was genuinely sad, for a moment, when it finally ran out.
It’s impossible to find a replacement anywhere outside the subcontinent, which means I’m struggling with an old-school shaving stick rather than lugging around a vat of shaving foam.
Even David Beckham would have been impressed.
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