As someone who spends most of his waking hours hitting things with wood for a living, it’s not often that I get the chance to pursue other interests. However, if there is something I absolutely love to do, it’s taking some time out to take to the controls of an aircraft and navigate around the beautiful region of the south of France.
I find this activity a fantastic personal challenge and a chance to develop all areas of my own awareness as well as simply being unbelievable fun.
As I approached the number of flight hours required and having spent seemingly endless recent sessions working on emergency techniques and revision, it was finally time for my checkride.
Just before leaving for a spate of three scheduled concert dates in Lyon, I had flown our faithful Piper Tomahawk F-GCFN to Avignon for its standard 50 hourly service so that it would be ready and in top shape, bright eyed and bushy tailed for my test the following week when I came back. All we had to do was hope that the weather behaved itself during the next seven days—which was quite a heavy request considering the recent trend of frontal systems that had been spending some time sweeping through the area over the last few days.
Then came the news… They had discovered some major work to be done to the engine systems and the aircraft would be out of service for the immediate future.
Nobody has set eyes on it since… !
There I was then, ready and pysched up to take my check ride in an aeroclub with no plane. A frustrating situation—not only for me but for the club who had counted on selling the plane and had a buyer waiting to take it back to Portugal as soon as I had completed my test.
The club was ready and lined up to buy another plane, but with these new events unfolding, that purchase had to be cancelled as well.
However, after much scratching of foreheads, fraying of nerves and finally much telephoning and negotiating, the powers that be at the club in Aix en Provence kindly found me a Tomahawk in Cannes to the east, and the following week I found myself in the unusual situation of driving to Cannes airport with a very amicable Certified Flight Examiner named Alain to take the checkride in the opposite direction. We would drive to Cannes, fly to Aix, fly back to Cannes, then take the car back to Aix ! Hey, why not ?!
Arriving at Cannes, we filled out the neccessary papers, wrote the neccessary cheques, and got on with the beginning of the test.
First things first, I had to present a lengthy briefing about the flight in question which basically involves me convincing the examiner of why I had chosen the selected routes, altitudes, fuel calculations, take off and landing performance calculations, all based on the latest weather updates, as well as going through a thorough review of all standard and emergency procedures to be encountered on the proposed flight.
Once that was done we went out to the stand and after a solid pre flight inspection of the aircraft, filling up with the required fuel, cockpit installation and engine start, we received clearance to taxi to the active runway.
Before I knew it, with the before take off checklist and departure briefing completed, I found myself lined up and ready to go on runway 17 at Cannes with the departure route heading out over the bay straight ahead.
Clearance received, I push the throttle forward, applying a lttle right rudder to counteract the asymetric thrust from the propeller and a little left hand down in view of a light crosswind.
The checks on the take off run go quickly—airspeed alive, take-off power set, engine readings in the green, rotation 55 knots, climb speed 70 knots and we’re heading out over the sea in the french riviera looking down on the numerous yachts park neatly in the bay.
The noise abatement procedure at Cannes calls for a straight ahead climb at the reduced ‘best angle of climb’ speed until reaching 800 feet, which is higher than the standard procedure, before a right turn proceeding to the reporting point Whiskey Charlie (whoever he is !) to leave the Cannes CTR.
We leveled out temporarily so as not to enter Nice airspace which was above us at 3000 feet, at least until we had chance to ask them first, being the polite gentlemen we are.
Once we had the clearance we continued the climb, arrived at Whiskey Charlie (nice guy…) and set the magnetic heading of 270 degrees to pursue the navigation towards the next waypoint north of Draguignan.
The atmosphere was certainly relaxed for a checkride thanks to Alain and we had chance to admire the mountainous countryside that is characteristic of the south of France while continuing to traverse the different military zones that govern this area of class G airspace.
The ride was punctuated with a mixture of Alain’s questions to test me about aspects of the flight and several unpleasant jolts due to turbulence along the first part of the route. I much prefered the questions.
We have several weather phenomenan in the region that contribute to some memorable rides. As well as the previously mentionned strong air movement created by the adventurously shaped countryside, we also suffer heavy convective turbulence due tu the immense heat in the summer months and it’s not for nothing that during August, flight activity can be at a real low on hotter days.
Another important feature of the region is the notorious heavy ’Mistral’ wind created by the Rhone valley.
Indeed, when the Mistral is in good shape and comes to visit, it can paralyse the local airport and put the best airline pilots to the test when they arrive at the neighbouring Marseille Provence International.
However, I always found it funny that no matter how bad the turbulence got on some of my training flights, my instructer would always respond to my punctuated ‘ooof!’s and ‘Aaahhh!’s by saying that it was nothing on that particular day and that it is regurlarly a lot worse…
Continuing with our journey, after passing to the south of the St Victoire mountain and commencing our descent to reporting point Alpha Echo in Aix airspace we were eventually cleared for a semi direct approach to runway 33 for a touch and go landing.
This is where my examiner would begin his fun.
We proceeded to make a low level left hand circuit with some simulated system failures followed by a climb to 2000 feet above the airport for a simulated engine failure. This basically turned the plane into a relatively inefficient glider. My job was to maintain the best glide speed with elevater control to maximise usable time and distance and bring the plane down safely to the runway following a geometric circuit called a PTE at the same time as correctly executing the engine out checklist from memory.
I managed to do it although with the heavy headwind I had to cut some corner off the final turn to make the maths work and get me down on the correct touching point.
Following that we set off north east for some more action, but not before sneaking in a simulated engine failure after take off exercise for good measure.
On the way back I had the chance to be checked out on multiple manouvers, including steep turns at a 45 degree angle of bank—both level and descending, slow flight, stalls, approach to stall in approach configuration, stalls while turning, and finally some diversion procedures before setting off back to Cannes using some radionavigation techniques.
Once everything had been done and we were safely on our way back with my checkride assured (assuming I didn’t fly into a mountain between here and the airport), by some illogical surge of honesty, I saw fit to mention to my examiner that we hadn’t done any work ‘under the hood’.
‘Under the hood’ is a term which describes the pilot wearing a strange device that blocks all view to the outside and allows only surveillance of the flight instruments to control the plane.
Jumping to action with the words « Ah, yes, you’re right !… » my examiner took less than thirty seconds to have me looking ridiculous to anybody who might catch a glimpse. There I was wearing a kind of strange plastic hat that made me look like Darth Vader in the event of him putting his helmet on back to front.
The usual procedure once the hood is installed is to execute some turns to certain headings requested by the examiner without entering a spiral dive for example. However, once I was settled in an looking stupid, I heard nothing more from my examiner.
I was beginning to wonder if he was still there!
Eventually, after becoming convinced that he was just waiting to see how long it would take for me to say something, well…, I said something.
At that point he gave in and asked me to perform the required 180 degree turns before finally relieving me of my Darth Vader impressions and letting me enjoy the scenery again.
The subsequent descent and landing at Cannes went without incident or indeed any flying into mountains and I received my examiner’s congratulations on arriving.
On the drive back home we passed almost the same points we had passed 4000 feet higher and took a lot longer to do it. It’s a lot less fun in car.
That gave me a chance however to discuss many other topics with my incredibly amicable flight examiner, benefitting fully from being so much more relaxed than I had been on the way there.
Now, with the my licence in hand, the toughest challenge I believe lies ahead—to stay proficient, and above all, to strive to continue learning.
Huge thanks go to my excellent instructer, Patrick for his rigourous and safe teaching, the aeroclub AAA at Aix en Provence for going out of their way to arrange a solution and also to the flight examiner Alain for being so friendly and allowing me to give of my best.
Hi Rob,
I was wondering if you could send me your email address as I would love to get in touch, I live relatively nearby between Hyeres and Toulon and it would be good to be in contact with a fellow english man in the region who likes to fly.
Regards
Stuart Morton
stupix@yahoo.com
Posted by: Stuart Morton | 03 March 2009 at 09:17 PM