Saturday morning it was time for lesson 3 in my transformation into a taildragger pilot. Thankfully, I survived "The Rapture" or the predicted apocalypse that was supposed to happen Saturday at 6pm. But, I didn't get out unscathed. :) Let me explain.
I now had two lessons under my belt and 2.9 total time in the Citabria. The mission for this flight was to fly over to Loveland-Ft Collins for some more pattern work. Lyn wanted to go somewhere where we could get on a longer runway. I'm thinking he had some emergency procedure work in mind that he wanted to unleash on me. For example...cutting the power at 50 ft while on climbout. Cool I thought, I enjoy this sort of stuff.
I proceed to do my pre-flight and while I am in busy with that, Lyn breaks out a fuel level checking device for measuring the fuel level in the tanks. If you haven't seen one, its just a clear tube that looks like a straw with indicator markings. You place it in the tank until it touches the bottom of the tank and then place your finger over one end to trap the fuel in the tube. Pull it out and read what the level indicates, simple but effective.
The Citabria has two wing tanks that simultaneously feed into the fuel intake. There is no "left-right" fuel selector in this aircraft like there is in the Skyhawk or DA-40, it is "both" as the only option. The first two flights I had just used the fuel indicator in the cockpit to check fuel level--bad habit on my part--instead of doing a visual check which I should be doing, but I'm STILL learning...as a pilot, always learning.
The fuel level on the gauges reads "empty" on one tank and "half" on the other...when adding the two together, we would read that as 1/4 fuel capacity. Why one tank would be empty and the other half makes no sense to me since they are supposed to feed together? I asked Lyn, he wasn't sure either and joked "maybe someone was flying around all day in a wing low flight attitude?" He ensured me there was nothing to worry about, it was normal in this plane.
I jump up on the ladder and checked the right tank, it shows 30 gallons on the indicator. I look at it and am confused, this tank only holds 18 gallons (17.5 usable) total, how could that be? So down I climb from the ladder and ask Lyn..."why does this read 30 gallons?" He says, "its designed for a different aircraft so we had to use a conversion chart...which, after consulting, says we actually have 14.5 gallons. Ah, much better, but certainly more than the gauge was reading....which is precisely why we should never feel comfortable with the fuel gauges in aircraft. I check the left tank and sure enough, I get no reading...its basically empty.
Ok, so now we know we need fuel, we discuss going over to Longmont as we did on our last flight for a top-off on the tanks before starting the lesson. Takeoff was good, right on centerline...no drift, ok, now I'm getting a feel for this baby.
A short flight of about 5 mins and I enter the pattern on a left crosswind and decided to do a quick touch and go to warm up the hands and feet. Pretty decent 3 pointer to start the day, I quickly assess that I am feeling much more comfortable already. The gains I expected on the last flight seem to have taken hold on this third flight. I come around again and land with another pretty good effort, the winds are calm at 9am and its a nice pleasant sunny day in the Rockies.
We ground the aircraft, pull out the ladder and I fill up the left tank...it gets just a few gallons...over to the right tank, it thirstily sucks up 15 gallons so although it read empty, it actually had about 3 gallons in it. I look around and don't see the fuel cap. I ask Lyn, "do you have this fuel cap?" He says "no"...and all of a sudden I get that bad feeling burble up in the pit of my stomach. We discuss it and try to replay the pre-flight in our memory...was it on when we left Boulder? I said, I wasn't sure, but I couldn't confirm it. Another BAD mistake on my part, I was already beating myself up over this as we discussed our plan going forward.
Well, we decide to head back over to Boulder and look for it on the ramp/runway. As we departed the pattern for the 5 minute flight back, we now could easily see the fuel dumping over the top of the wing and off the trailing edge in a white whispy stream. I think I may include a cruise checklist item to visually look for this on climbout in the future...we didn't even notice it on the way over to Longmont. The low pressure on the top of a wing in flight will essentially syphon fuel overboard like a vacuum.
It can be a very dangerous situation on a long flight if you don't notice it and all of a sudden your tank is dry, which is essentially why I am not happy with myself. I had let myself become distracted and lost my focus on the task at hand. These kinds of simple things can kill a pilot if left unchecked, or you string several of them together into a chain of events that lead to an accident. I know better. As we line up for the landing, I have to consciencely put the event, that's weighing on my mind, out of my head so I can concentrate on the landing at hand...no sense letting this snowball.
After we secure the aircraft on the ramp, we proceed to look everywhere and cant find it. Dang...that's gonna probably cost me. We borrow one from the maintenance shop next hangar over and decide to continue with the lesson but just remain in the pattern at Boulder since we didn't have enough time left for our original plan.
By now, the winds have started to pick up considerably so this might get a tad interesting. As part of my tailwheel checkout I need to do some crosswind work, so this will work out well.
Up we go, the winds now favor runway 26, which points almost directly to the west and the foothills of the Rocky mountains. My last instructor said, he never liked doing pattern work at Boulder when the winds were favoring this runway. Although I had landed on 26 a few times before, I hadn't experienced it very often, its also a righthand pattern which is a little different. The winds whip over the Rockies and burble quite violently sometimes as they transition to the plains of east Colorado. AWOS was reporting 17 knots gusting to 24 (17G24kts) as we lined up for the first landing.
We had a slight right crosswind component, so I transition into a right wing low, side slip attitude. I touch down on my right main in a wheel landing, by design. All is well, then I forget to keep aileron correction in place and neutralize the ailerons...doh, stupid, stupid, stupid! :) Now things go from nice and controlled to plenty interesting as that wind starts to pick up my right wing and I start losing directional control. I finally get a hold of the situation and plant the tail on the ground for some steering control. Whew! Off we go to come around the pattern and try again. In a taildragger, the winds take on a whole new meaning.
We do 7 more landings in these gusty conditions. Plenty bumpy and I was working hard for my money on final while Lyn seemed to be so calm he might've been asleep in the backseat, other than a few timely reminders and comments when needed. ;) Wind checks from the ground were now calling out gusts up to 30 kts! Even the glider tow pilots (BDU is a glider airport also) were on the radio saying they were calling it a day because it was getting too choppy. These are not uncommon conditions out here, mother nature...in concert with those big 'hills' to the west of us, make this a plenty challenging environment to fly in. These are conditions, believe it or not, I have seen plenty in my short flying career.
My landings were nothing to brag about, but they were safe and most importantly I maintained directional control for the most part. Admittedly they were a little rough. In conditions like this, safe is all you are looking for...anything more is gravy.
As we lined up for the last one, I decided as I always do--its an old habit from spending hundreds and hundreds of hours in the batting cage during my baseball days, "lets end on a good one." As I turn final, I turned the concentration level up a notch--good stable approach, glideslope and airspeed nailed...lots of small, corrective control inputs as I'm working hard to keep us stable and wings level, the wind gusts keep bucking the airplane all over the sky like an invisible, mischevious hand.
Down we come on short final, I check the windsock and the wind direction is right on our nose, directly down the runway on this approach so our groundspeed is approaching what seems like walking speed as we seem to hover above the ground. Good level off...flare...and a single, soft chirp of the tires indicating a perfect three pointer. Aaaaah, now that feels good as I let a smile creep across my face and let out a slow sigh of relief. :)
The thing I love most about flying is how challenging it is, being a good pilot is not easy and landings are especially difficult, there are so many variables to contend with on a landing that each one is unique...but the pursuit of the perfect landing is nothing short of a magical quest.
I logged 1.6 hrs and ten more touch and goes, bringing my tailwheel HOBBS total to 4.5 hrs. I now feel I am safe in the airplane for solo flight. Of course that's just my opinion, the insurance company certainly wouldn't agree. In addition, Lyn has the final say in this regard. These days in aviation, everything is done very conservatively...20 yrs ago (prior to 1991), a tailwheel endorsement wasn't even required so go figure. These days it takes most pilots up to 10 hrs of dual training before they are cut loose.
In hindsight thinking about the fuel cap fiasco, I replayed the events in my mind and its pretty easy to now see what happened. As I checked that first tank with the fuel level tube, I jumped down to ask Lyn about the confusing 30 gallon reading I was getting...and then without thinking, just moved on to the other tank without securing the cap on the first one. Simple act of distraction...a good lesson to file away.
So, although I did lose a fuel cap on this fateful day...I thankfully survived the 'end of days'...apparently you did too. ;) See ya next time!
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