What I Learned Today

Our local community college, Linn-Benton Community College, is offering a beginning sign language (ASL) class, which is taught by Zoom. I’ve been hoping to take a class on this subject for some time now, so this is my chance! At first I was a little disappointed that it was being taught by Zoom, but now that we’ve had our first class meeting, I discovered some interesting advantages of that format.

The instructor is Dr. Jonah Eleweke, who holds two Ph.D.s (!) and is a vibrant, energetic, friendly, and fun instructor. (I admire how he keeps the energy level high even via Zoom – I know how hard that can be!) So far, there are just three students, including me, which gives the class a chatty, intimate feeling. Dr. Eleweke plunged us right in, signing repeatedly, “GOOD EVENING!” as we joined the session, smiling and grinning in welcome.

Here’s where the Zoom format came in handy. Dr. Eleweke alternated between typing into the chat window and signing, so we could make the connection. It felt like being immediately immersed, although it wasn’t technically a full immersion since we were able to read translations and make connections that way. But it was an interesting experience, to have _everyone_ on the Zoom call muted, and this continual silence, with avid attention on visual cues and smiles and nods. I wondered, indeed, how he would have taught the same content in person – maybe hand-writing on the chalkboard? Undoubtedly this was easier.

We covered the manual alphabet, then moved on to signs for greeting, asking people’s names, and some basic vocabulary. Dr. Eleweke had slides to both introduce content and to provide practice sentences for us to sign. We’d follow along slowly as he signed it first, then sign (simultaneously) while he somehow watched us all make our attempts. The slides were another useful aspect because he could just move his red arrow around to different words or sentences to prompt us about what to sign.

One downside was that it we couldn’t really get individual feedback or corrections. In person, you can face an individual and direct comments to them, but on Zoom we’re all flattened and you can’t see where someone’s gaze is directed. I wished we had had a chance to practice signing either individually (to Dr. Eleweke) or to each other. We had a 15-minute break in the middle of class, and right before class resumed, another student and I practiced the greeting dialogue with each other, which was fun :)

A: HELLO. MY NAME ____. YOUR NAME, WHAT?
B: MY NAME ____. NICE MEET YOU.
A: NICE MEET YOU.
B: BYE-BYE. SEE YOU LATER!
A: SAME-SAME.

We also covered some interesting grammatical points. When signing a dialogue yourself (like doing both A and B above), you shift your body left and right to indicate who is communicating. Also, nouns are (often? usually?) signed “twice” in that, for example, “NAME” has you tap your hands together twice. It seems that this is a method for distinguishing related verbs (sign once) from nouns (sign twice). (Btw, I love this example sentence from that page: English: “I like to fly small planes.” Sign: SMALL-PLANES FLY LIKE ME)

Overall it was a very fun class. Dr. Eleweke was constantly positive, joking, encouraging, and patient. I’m looking forward to learning more!

On March 22, I went up for some practice instrument flying with a fellow instrument-rated pilot. We headed up to McMinnville (KMMV), about a 30-minute flight. There were a few puffy clouds scattered around, but (somewhat disappointingly) nothing directly in our path, so Ryan put on his foggles and I served as the safety pilot. I watched for traffic, kept an eye on the scattered clouds, and enjoyed the view, while Ryan had to stare at the instruments and miss all the scenery.

Here’s my view of some puffy clouds away to the west (Ryan flies from the right seat):

As we flew further north, I spotted this less friendly looking cloud with vertical development and active rain. I kept an eye on it, but we were flying well to the east so it wasn’t an immediate concern.

We reached McMinnville (which was clear) and Ryan flew two approaches under the hood while I continued spotting other planes and monitoring clouds to the south and west of the airport. Originally we were going to switch so I could also fly an approach, but it seemed to me that the weather was closing in a bit so we decided to head back to Corvallis. As we returned, Ryan got to fly us into this little cloud (isn’t it stunning?) and then we were clear again.

I took the controls (and the comm), lowered my foggles, and we were cleared back to Corvallis. Now Ryan was scouting for traffic and clouds. At one point he said we’d gotten back in some clouds, so I got to flip up my foggles and enjoy seeing clouds in front of the plane’s nose (I bet that sight never gets old!). Then I was back to staring at the instruments. This was the first time I’d used this plane’s autopilot, and it was a good chance to get familiar with its operation.

After a bit, ATC notified us that there was an “area of severe precipitation ahead, 10 miles wide, say intentions.” That didn’t sound good, and when we tuned in to Corvallis’s weather reporting, we heard “wind 290 at 13 gusting 20, thunderstorms”. We looked at the NEXRAD display and saw that the thunderstorm was sitting just east of our destination (here, south is up and the storm is the yellow/orange blob) – right where we wanted to go to land on the runway most favored by the winds (RW 28).

We may fly into clouds, but we do not fly into thunderstorms. I’ve rescheduled a return flight before to avoid them. I’ve never had to deal with them in flight, though. After some discussion of options, I asked for a hold at DERAY, which is a waypoint on the RNAV 35 approach and looked to be far enough south to keep us well clear of the storm. The lines on the screen aren’t our track – they’re the approach, which would take us uncomfortably close to the storm. The hope was that if we circled in the hold at DERAY for a bit, the storm would move on or dissipate, clearing the way for our approach. We had plenty of fuel for this. And indeed, after 10-15 minutes in the hold, the storm had faded and I proceeded in and down towards runway 35. It wasn’t my best approach (I was too high, but better than being too low I guess! I’ll do better next time), but I successfully crabbed into the crosswind and then circled to land on 28 (winds were from 290 at 19 gusting 23, whee). That was my 75th instrument approach!

While everything worked out fine, I was a little perplexed that this thunderstorm came as a surprise. I’d gotten a weather briefing, and there were no thunderstorm warnings (otherwise I would not have flown that day). The only clues were an area of “general convective activity” over most of western Oregon, with no supporting details, and “rain showers” forecast (but rain showers do not always, or even usually, turn into thunderstorms).

After the flight, I looked up the hourly weather reports from Corvallis that had been ticking by while we were out at McMinnville. When we left at 2:30 p.m., winds were from 140 at 7 knots, clear skies. At 3 p.m. it was reporting “LTG DSNT N” (distant lightning to the north). Later reports show the thunderstorm beginning at 3:45 p.m. and ending at 4:41 p.m. We landed at 4:51 p.m.

I also considered what I would do differently if this came up again. I would have asked ATC for vectors to keep us further west of the storm on our way to DERAY. I didn’t notice any turbulence from it, but the standard advice is to stay 20 NM away, and we were closer than that. And if the storm didn’t move or dissipate, we could have diverted to Eugene, which was experiencing clear weather and is quite close.

Overall, this was another reminder that no matter when and where you fly, there’s always something new to learn. Flying is never boring, and I love the continual challenge of it!

Recently I came across the word “parergon”, which was new to me. When I looked it up, I learned that it refers to “a piece of work that is supplementary to or a byproduct of a larger work” (Oxford) or “a supplementary issue or embellishment” (wikipedia). It is something (ornament or frame for art, appendix to a book, etc.) that supplements the “ergon”, the primary work. I hadn’t encountered “ergon” either, but hey! It rings a bell from “ergonomics”, which refers to “the study of people’s efficiency in their working environment” (Oxford again). The common root “erg” refers to work. Nifty!

Parergon apparently can also refer to an activity outside of your main occupation (hobby, presumably, or what today would be called a “side hustle” if you’re making money from it). May we all have many parerga – it’s not all about the ergon!

I may have invented a new sport!

Airplane instrument approaches to airports allow you to fly safely through clouds (or in the dark) without running into terrain or obstacles. They specify the path to fly and the minimum altitude for each segment. Individual obstacles (hills, towers, etc.) are also charted as an additional warning for things to avoid.

One example is the ILS approach to runway 17 at the Corvallis (KCVO) airport. An excerpt is shown at right. You fly along the thick black line from top-to-bottom on this chart (with a heading of 172 degrees) to get to runway 17, which is near the icon marked with the “CVO” bubble (this is actually the VOR but it’s close to the approach end of RW 17).

If you look near the point marked “ZIKDO”, you can see a little pointy icon with “1757” next to it. This indicates an obstacle (tower) that sticks up to 1757 feet above sea level. The procedure specifies that your airplane should be no lower than 2800′ here, and the obstacle shows you exactly why. It’s comforting to know that you have 1000′ of clearance above the highest obstacle as you’re flying along at 100 mph without being able to see the ground.

I have flown this approach several times, and I’ve always either had my foggles on or been in the clouds, so I’d never actually seen the obstacle. It was more of a theoretical entity.

The other day I was out for a hike and realized that the path I was on went right under the ILS 17 approach course. In fact, as I hiked up a hill, I realized that I might be approaching whatever that tall obstacle must be. I pulled up my Garmin Pilot app (generally used when I’m flying, not hiking) and was able to navigate to the ground location of the obstacle near ZIKDO! The blue dot shows my location. The app reports I’m standing at 1481′, so (depending how accurate that is), the tower would be about 275′ tall.

And here is what I found: an impressively tall tower sticking up on top of the hill and certainly not something I’d like to have in close proximity to my airplane:

It was so cool to see it with my own eyes! Locating the obstacle felt a little like an aviation-themed geocaching exercise :) There was no tangible treasure to be found, but now the instrument approach procedure chart feels a little more “grounded”, and I can appreciate all over again the work that goes into formulating these approaches to keep us safe. There’s more to find on this chart alone! I already know the one at 388′ just north of the airport (it’s a water tower, very cool). Maybe sometime I’ll make my way to the tower at 1316′, the hill/mountain at 2096′, or the tower indicated at 380′ south of the airport. Here’s to finding more aero-obstacles!

On February 15, 2023, I took my instrument rating checkride with Lisa Dahl at the Salem, OR, airport (KSLE). That morning, my home airport (KCVO) was covered in thick freezing fog, so I couldn’t fly my plane there as originally planned. Instead, I drove to KSLE and then handed my car keys to an instructor who was kind enough to drive my car to KCVO and fly the plane back to KSLE for me, while I did the oral part of the checkride. We started the oral part at 10 a.m. and finished around 2 p.m. (when the plane showed up), ate a bit of lunch, then went flying for 2 more hours.

Overall, the oral part of the exam was very conversational, and Lisa encouraged me from the start to take notes so I would know what to look into more deeply after the checkride. That was something I’d wanted to do anyway!

Lisa checked my documents, endorsements, and qualifications (training and experience), quizzed me about IFR currency requirements, and discussed my personal mins (guidelines for conditions under which I’d feel comfortable flying IFR). We reviewed the airplane’s inspections and airworthiness and talked through some decision-making scenarios.

In advance, she’d asked me to plan an IFR flight from KSLE to KRBG (Roseburg, in the hills), then pick up a passenger and fly KRBG to KCEC (Crescent City, on the coast). This was a fun exercise, and I’d spent a lot of time compiling all the details I would want if I were really flying it (route, altitude, weight and balance, fuel requirements, estimated time en route, whom I’d talk to along the way, departure and approach procedures available, takeoff mins, my personal mins, runway properties (including lighting), airport services, NOTAMs, the latest weather that day, special concerns, and alternatives (if no-go on the flight). I brought Google 3D visualizations of the expected approaches to give a visual sense of the terrain (especially KRBG). Most of this we didn’t actually use, but we did talk about en-route altitudes and terrain clearance.

We talked through decision making in scenarios like being in the clouds and discovering you have icing on your plane, or turbulence, and what options you would consider. We looked at KONP (Newport) and how its airspace differs from KCVO’s airspace. We discussed being cleared for a “visual” approach and what that means, then talked through the RNAV B approach at KRBG. I shared my concerns about the steep descent rate required (a VDA (visual descent angle) of 5.36 degrees which is almost twice the typical 3 degrees).

Next we talked about the airplane’s electrical system: battery voltage, bus voltage, alternator failure, how long the battery might last, and that transitioned nicely to a discussion of what to do if you have lose communication. She asked if I would accept a tailwind landing and seemed pleased I had articulated a personal limit for this.

Apparently the oral part was satisfactory, because we proceeded to discuss a plan for our flight. We separated to eat our lunches, then I went out to pre-flight the plane. She joined me and asked a few questions about the plane (cylinders, spark plugs, fuel vents). She had me handle ATC communications while we were IFR and she took over when we were VFR. We flew the SLE4 departure from runway 34 (they gave us a heading of 340 and 4000′). During debrief later, Lisa said not to do a rolling takeoff, which was the first time I’d gotten that advice. (Instead, get on the runway and lined up, pause, final check of heading/runway/etc., then proceed). I’ve only done this for short-field takeoffs. Good to know!

She wanted me to demonstrate one hand-flown approach, one autopilot-coupled, and the other one my choice. We flew the ILS 31 from LOTKE, missed approach, hold at ARTTY, then the LOC BC 13, circle west to a low approach on RW 34. I used the autopilot after departure until we were approaching LOTKE, hand-flew the ILS 31, used the autopilot for the hold and LOC BC 13, then hand-flew everything else. She complimented my handling of approach speed and descent rate. Here I am reporting that we’re coming in on the ILS 31:

and then when we crossed the LOTKE waypoint:

and then when we went missed and were climbing away from the airport:

For the LOC BC 13, after leveling nicely just above MDA, I flipped up the foggles and started inadvertently descending (I think maybe due to the slight disorientation in switching from foggles to visual and simultaneously slowing down – pitching up and reducing power, maybe too much on the latter) and she said to watch altitude, and I quickly caught it. My alignment downwind was good, but in looking at my ground track I judge that I was way too far from the runway. The low approach went well and we climbed out VFR.

We did a sequence of VOR tuning and tracking operations, then everyone’s favorite: unusual attitude recoveries! We returned to the airport with the RNAV 31 approach. We simulated loss of WAAS, so no vertical guidance, and she put a post-it over the HSI to simulate the loss of one G5, so I also had limited lateral guidance. I flared a little high but it was a satisfactory landing. We taxied back to parking and she said that I passed!

Overall it was a great opportunity to go through all of the knowledge and skills that I’ve been working for months to acquire. Lisa gave me what I consider an enormous compliment in saying that I ask all the right questions and she likes how I get into the details of how things work. She encouraged me to get my commercial and CFI certificates and train some students :) I then flew back to KCVO, landing a bit after 7 p.m.!

The real reward for passing the checkride will be getting to fly instruments without foggles on! I can’t wait to see what I’ve been missing!