After the requisite one second of astonishment, I see the palm of my left hand is pushing firmly on the yoke forward while stating the obvious "We're landing!" As the aircraft pitches forward, the engine roars to life, back from the dead. He starts to climb, or has the restoration of power simply caused the nose to pitch up? I'm no longer astonished and quickly reach forward and pull the throttle, repeating emphatically "We're landing." We touch down on the remaining runway and roll to the very end. I'm glad I kept my mouth shut and we didn't take the shorter runway - we could have ended up in the trees. Instead, no one is hurt, the plane isn't damaged, and we taxi back to parking, happy to let a mechanic sort this one out.
Monday starts with me like an expectant father. I'm always like this when I have recommended a pilot for a practical test. The check ride is scheduled to start at noon and though it's my day off, I find myself looking at my watch around 1pm. "Hmm ... no call from the DPE so all the endorsements and paperwork must have been acceptable." 3pm arrives and I wonder if the oral portion of the test is complete: "They must be in the air by now ..." 4:30pm rolls around and I'm walking my dog: "Sundown is not far off, I'll give my student a call" But it rolls over to voicemail immediately. At 5pm, my cell rings. She passed, had the usual adventure with this particular DPE, and seems astounded that the check ride is over. "Oh, he said to tell you that you did a good job." Hey, I wasn't the one flying the plane on the check ride ... Congrats Elise!
Tuesday sees a second flight with the same CFI candidate, this time in a different plane. It goes well and I suggest he call the FSDO to schedule the re-check. A few phone calls and the re-check is set for tomorrow morning! Who says the FAA doesn't offer good service on check rides? We spend several hours going through the aircraft logbooks, identifying all the airworthiness directives that affect the plane. I know the inspector won't like some of the entries in the aircraft logbooks. I try talking to the mechanic about re-doing them. I'm unsuccessful and leave with the feeling that the mechanic was just about to punch me in the mouth. "Pick you battles" I tell myself. We fill out the form 8710 and I make the requisite endorsement. "Am I ready?" he asks. "I wouldn't endorse you if you weren't." Then I jump into my car, hop on the freeway at 5pm to drive to meet another CFI to sign him off for his CFI-I knowledge test. Traffic is heavy so I call him, suggest we meet at Peet's so I can grab a mocha and a snack - a really late lunch. Next comes a night flight with an instrument candidate that both of us wish had gone better. Then it's back home for dinner and an hour to unwind before bed.
Wednesday morning starts early with a meeting with the FAA inspector to chat about my CFI candidate before his re-check. I do my best to smooth things with regard to the aircraft logbooks, and then I'm off to do an instructional flight to Truckee that had been postponed several times due to uncooperative winds aloft. This day we have very calm winds aloft, clear skies, and mild temperatures. Skimming over the Sierra Nevada, just south of Interstate 80, we cross over the Blue Canyon airport, coated with snow. Heading to the ridge that separates us from the Truckee airport, I wait for my pilot to start his descent. He starts a bit late, but with some coaching from yours truly he's able to get down and slow down. He does a great landing. On the return trip, the climb performance of this plane at 8000 to 10,500 feet is quite good - 600 to 700 feet per minute. Of course the OAT is only 5˚ C. The visibility is excellent. I glance to the north and I can see Mt. Shasta in the distance. We arrive back to find that my CFI candidate has passed the oral portion, but the inspector doesn't like the aircraft logs and has given a letter of discontinuance. This is supremely frustrating because the mechanic, if he had just changed the entries as requested, could have prevented this whole mess. My CFI candidate wants to fly again, and the only time I have is tonight ... after I complete another checkout flight in the DiamondStar. Three flights later and another 6 plus hour instructional flying day is done.
My first lesson on Thursday starts later, so I can sleep a bit later. I meet a student pilot who just completed his pre-solo phase check with another instructor. He had protested that he didn't feel ready, but the phase check went very well and I arrive this morning with a trick up my sleeve - a sticker on which I've printed his solo endorsements. We take off, go to the practice area, do some maneuvers, the head back for touch and goes as a warm-up. After two good landings, I suggest that we make the next one a full-stop, I'll get out, and he can see how the plane flies without the 180 pound windbag onboard. He agrees, I endorse his logbook and medical certificate, and after three trips around the patch, he's one of the newest student pilots in the country. I'm always amazed at the feeling of giving someone their wings, which is essentially the authority bestowed on flight instructors. Congrats Bill!
Next, I'm back on the road to meet a new commercial multi-engine student at a different airport. After much paperwork and some discussion about single-engine aerodynamics and procedures, we're off for his first flight. He does well and flies smoothly - something I wish I saw more often in pilots I instruct. He's having a blast and it fun to see him having such a good time.
I gobble down a snack, then meet my instrument student for his second flight of the week. This flight goes much, much better and I observe that he flies that way on the next flight, I'll sign him off for the check ride. During the flight, I see a light on Mt. Diablo that I've not seen before - two red flashes, then a white flash. I ask ATC if they know what it is an get an unenthusiastic "what light?" Another pilot on frequency tells me it's an old navigation beacon that was decommissioned. The beacon, a remnant of the kind that used to define the Federal Airway System, is turned on for just one night each year as a memorial for the December 7, 1941 attack on Pearl Harbor.Friday is another early start with the commercial multi student and the weather forecast calls for rain to move into Northern California. The winds have picked up and the Bay Area airports are already on the southeast plan. We head to the northeast for maneuvers high above Travis Air Force Base with high clouds streaming in from the frontal system that is approaching. Travis Approach gives us traffic advisories but the frequency is eerily quite. We're able to get a practice GPS approach into Concord, even though they have traffic departing the opposite direction. The Concord tower controller is even friendly and cheerful - I usually find them to be uniformly cross and irritable, probably the result of less than ideal working conditions. Back at Oakland, the winds at the surface are light and variable. Above 800' AGL, things are rockin' and rollin'. We do a few touch and goes, but it's clear my student is worn out. Due to the weather, this was a short day allowing me an afternoon nap before I go to the gym.
Three lessons scheduled for tomorrow, but it's not clear the weather will cooperate.
