Ty Ewup

So I have no blogged in some time.

Bad Jayson, Bad. Normally such a sentence is met with a roguish grin, not today.
What's the what, I guess you could ask. Let's see, I'm away on course (again). The military has allowed me to buy a mortgage and live in a modest house but it feels the need to have me wander about the Canadian Countryside.

Perhaps by making me visit all the provinces (missing one now) they feel I will be better prepared to defend said union of provinces in a crisis. Little do they realise, but I rather like my country. Big fan you might say, Go Team. They will have none of it, and so here I am.

Gagetown is one of the prettier places they have sent me. It is filled with trees, few people, and no less than four seasons. I could definately enjoy a posting out here. It could happen in 5 years, or there abouts, so I'm learning to enjoy the lay of the land. As long as you don't travel west, you usually hit Ocean sooner or later around here (which is pretty neat). The ocean, as I understand it, is quite large. The ocean, as I know it, is quite pretty. Confederation bridge created the world's largest gated community, Halifax is a great city to bar hop, and all the people here obey traffic laws.

Allow yourself a moment to let that sink in.

I'm not just talking about yeilding and right-of-ways, I'm also talking about courtesy. People will let you in here. They will come to a stop and wave you in/through/around/etc. I was baffled at first. For example: Driving the course van (a 2002 Astro van, a giant monstrosity if there ever was one) I have to make a left turn to get to breakfast. The opposing morning traffic is everyone getting into work for the day on the base. There are literally thousands of people on this little road at the same time every morning. The left turn in question is not a four way stop, and the opposing traffic has every right to keep on going, laughing all the way at this poor Astro Van trying to make an ill-concieved left turn.

The first day I had to do this, I realised my error too late. I committed myself to this foolish left turn. Half-way into a long "fuuuuck", a car in the opposing lane stopped. He/she wasn't turning they were merely being nice. They even waved me on, as it took a few heartbeats to accept this impossibility. Everytime I got stopped at this turn, someone always let me in.

Maybe this was just on the base, I thought. They can see the Gov't plates, and must feel a kinship to their fellow military members. This is simply not the case. I feel sorry for any maritimer that has to drive in Ontario or Alberta. Going into the dogfight that is rush hour traffic out west. People being nice on the road, it takes very little time to get used to. Ask Carol, I was downright surly when I started driving in Edmonton again. You start to believe that driving should be a pleasent movement from one place to another.

I should be home in Feb sometime, hope to see you all again soon.

A month later...

Christmas happened, then the "after Christmas rush" happened. So I have been horribly tardy in this post.

I solo'd, as most of you already know. I wasn't scared during the solo, I had a contract with my little helicopter. It was Whiskey, tail number 313. I was, therefore, Chopper 13. I was undeterred by the "unlucky" number. I was born on the 13th, I considered it more of a good than a bad omen.

The instructor got out and told me good luck. He strapped in the sandbag (for weight and balance), Sandy I called him, and walked away.

So I sat there, cyclic in hand, Sandy beside me, wondering what I should do to next. Well I "knew" what do to next...the next checklist response, that was the obvious thing to do. Instead, I had a chat with the Jet Ranger. It was mostly a one sided conversation, with Sandy standing in as mediator (in case things escalated to fisticuffs). I told Miss Ranger, that I was new to the game of helo flying, and that this was my first time out by myself. Her rotor hum told me she understood, that we were in this together. Fortified in the knowledge that we were on the same page, I added in some collective (think: gas pedal).

The noises were all the same, I relaxed ( the bane of all students is to tense up) and prepared to lift off. Intellectually I understood I was a lot lighter than normal and that it wouldn't take nearly as much power to lift off...but emotionally I did not. Needless to say, I was about half a foot in the air before I realized I was airborne

This was were the nerves kicked in, this was new, only half expected. I repeated the helo student mantra "relax...relax...relax", and things settled down. I rose to 4 feet and let myself breathe again. Hovering is the single hardest thing I've ever learned how to do. Hovering solo is one of the greatest feelings I have ever felt in an aircraft.

Miss Ranger hadn't let me down, she let me guide her around, and 30 minutes later we landed.

I don't remember much of that trip, except those first few moments. Flying a regular airplane solo was amazing, but flying a helo solo is what it means to be free.

Like the hawk, I can perch wherever I like, survey my surrounding. I can speed off with a moments notice, in any direction.

An airplane is guided by rules, places it can't land, places it can't go. The helo knows these things not. It was after I solo'd that I realized this is what I want to do with my life. All things before this, I couldn't have been certain, now I am.

I think I may have the coolest job out there, if you don't believe me, solo a chopper.

I woke up to the song of the Graters going by. Starting with their scrapping of the curbs mixed in with melodiously shrill beeps as they back up and finishing as they shake their shovel up and down to get that last little bit of snow off.

Just another oh dark 30 wake up call on base. Not that Im complaining, those poor bastards have already gotten up and had to go to work, while Im still snoozing in my bed.

The graters give a small hope though to a possible snow day. You look outside and wonder if its still snowing or possibly (like today) windy as fuck.

This initial look outside is the time my alarm usually goes off, and I tell myself "I guess I had to wake up anyway". That doesn't really assuge your anger and you still swear at the bastard who thought it was a good idea to give graters a back-up-beep. On the especially early morning wake ups, you curse Ford himself. The height of Blasphemy for all the Alphas in the room.

But while cursing, you see the wind blowing through the lone leafless tree out your window. You hear the radio telling you that buses arn't running and that the highways are closed down!

Maybe

Just Maybe, you can go to met brief (0745) and find out you can climb right back to bed (hopefully by 0830). The good news was, we did eventually get cleared off for the day by 1300hr. I would nap now, I would, if I had any chance of actually sleeping. What does a pilot with a serious caffiene addiction do when not flying? I will give you three guesses.

Don't worry, I'll wait.
Still Thinking?
No, its not rutabega.
Its neither Vegetable, Rock, nor Mineral.
It starts with a C and ends in OFFEE.

Needless to say by 830 this morning, I had a good 4 or 5 cups downrange. Im jacked up higher than a dress at prom! Luckily the gym is open and the jPod is charged and ready to go. Dreadmill here I come!

Im on CH 8, and my Solo Check is CH 11.

I can't even hover turn yet! My instructor tells me Im doing fine, somehow I don't believe him. Having fun though, enjoying the course, hating any sort of snow moving device, and waking up earlier than could possibly be natural.

That's enough of an update for...Great, now you got me thinking about rutabega

As some of you may have noticed, I've been Plap'in of late. Portage la Prairie is where im at, thats what PlaP means.

It also means that I'm on the course for my wings.

Its pretty wild, being here. Im calm, really calm, I deserve to be here and I know it.

At least that's what I tell myself. I have a great course. I know all of them, and everyone here is motivated to see the finish. The Finish, the term bounces around my head and I can do nothing but smile. Where Moose Jaw made me a little stress factory, I take everything here in stride.

The course will be tough,no doubt. My Airframe is an engineering marvel, unfortunately, the thing was designed by engineers! That means it breaks, in a myriad of different ways. All those different ways, while very remote, must be memorized.

Those elusive wings wouldn't be worth anything if I didn't have to work like a banshee for them.

Work hard during the week, party harder on the weekend, study on sundays. Wash, Rinse, Repeat.

Let the games begin.

Its a Saturday Morning, and I don't feel so great. This is pretty standard around here, but sadly, I am not hungover.

I've been sick for the three days, but it seems the antibiotics they gave are working! I slept through most of the night, which I thought was a thing of the past. This cold is like Brannigan's love: hard and fast.

So I've been sitting at home, watching TV. A lot of quality TV can be watched when there is literally no way you want to get up from your chair. The Daily Show/Colbert Report is good stuff, kept me much amused. Dennis Miller was on the Daily Show, that guy is way too smart. I had to look up 4 or 5 words after his speech, though in the rages of my cold, I do not recall which words those are. Kinda odd to think about it, Smart Americans, you'd figure they'd have all died out by now. Alas, those two Shows give me hope...hope that the Yanks will one day unfuck themselves.

Speaking of Unfucking. I passed my 4th flight test. I had Captain Hirt (aka the Hurt Locker) for this test. I also had him for my first flight test, the IIT. They were both the same sorta test, doing the same sorta things, so I knew he could see directly improvement on my part. This Test involved flying to Swift Current. Which is pretty cool, cause this test was actually useful. I can now go from point A to point B. Its pretty cool, having a clue what you are doing on the Radio. Instead of Air Traffic Control, being this horrible machine, they are just another instrument. Something the pilot must use and listen to if the flight is to go according to plan.

The flight went great, coupla silly mistakes, but it was a pass. I have 9 flights to go. As soon as i get better, I can finish this freaking course off.


9 flights for a mortal man, destined to fly
7 form trips needing an IP with stoney resolve
2 Xs for the student under a sunless sky
In the land of Moose Jaw where pilots toil
100 events in all, 1 Aves to fly them,
1 course to test them all and in its completion bind them
In the land of Moose Jaw where pilots toil

Apparently this is my 114th blog. That seems on the high side, but I never was one to count so good. Sadly my English is worse, yet people still read this thing, so I will continue to post.

I just updated a few days ago, but the next coupla weeks will be hectic for me. Im on the BIT run, and it is very much a run. A sprint, with a flight and a sim scheduled for the next four days, and the Basic Instrument Test as close as next wednesday (assuming the weather holds, naturally). Sadly, having good hands and feet is only part of the battle for this test. The BIT is all in the mind, Calculations, Situational Awareness (SA), fighting with ATC, overcoming "the leans", and trying not to violate your instructors tickets (which isn't as fun as it sounds).

The calculations arn't so bad, I've been doing them since the start of the course, and the numbers eventually start to make sense. The problem is flying to other airports. On friday I flew to regina, its about 13 minutes away by flight, which is great. The sucky thing is, Regina is only 13 minutes away by flight. You have no time to prepare, get set up, push buttons. You would think, as the nintendo generation, that button pushing would come naturally, this is not the case.

Luckily you have an instructor there, telling you exactly would you should have already done.
"Jayson you missed your level off check...and now you missed your pre-descent...you should have already gotten ATIS from moose jaw....".

As I panic in the back, Captian Combe (an Old SAR guy who has been flying 15 years) calmly does everything in about 2.4 seconds, and rectifies the problem. Im still "flying behind the aircraft", I try desperately try to just start doing something...anything. I decide to fly the aircraft, thats rule one, fly the aircraft. I settle down the plane, and decide that flying to where Im supposed to be flying would be a good idea. So I push a few buttons and start steering towards Esrub, a mythical point in the sky that GPS can go to. Rule two is navigate, so Im actually doing useful things in the cockpit, Im starting to feel pretty good about myself. Sure I havnt done half of what Im supposed to be doing, but atleast Im going somewhere, with a modicum of confidence its where I should be going.

The GPS is a great tool, it tells you when to turn normally. When you get to ESRUB, its supposed to turn to RERAR, which I know to be a left turn. The GPS starts flashing "waypoint waypoingt", which is a good sign, I should turn soon. I watch the numbers tick down close to 0, getting ready for my left turn, proud that I have calmed the Harvard down and myself.

Its when the pilot is most smug, that things are actually going the most wrong.

The numbers start counting up...I look at the map, I have passed ESRUB, the GPS will not cycle to the next waypoint.

Capt Combe patiently waits for me to panic again, and sort myself out. I forgot to push a button, to let the GPS cycle to the next point. Combe had warned me twice on the ground, and twice in the air, my smuggness rapidly decreases.

This is how the rest of the flight went
"Fuck...okay fixed that....fuck..."

We got down, I was wiped out, completely exhausted from the trip. Actual time in the air? 68 minutes. I figured I might get a low standard...if Im lucky, but Combe gave me a High Standard.

He told me "we succeeded in the missions aim". The aim was to give me "exposure" to flying to other airports, and seeing if I ever gave up and stopped trying to catch up. The fact I kept screwing up was okay, Combe just wanted to see me sort it out and move on.

For the next trip, I have to know what Im doing, and actually do it. Im sure Captian Combe will enjoy the flight, students constantly suprize istructors with new and instersting mistakes.

I had another test, quick illness, only lasted 1.6 hours, considered myself very lucky. In this test, I had to fnd a town, it was called Eyebrow, I shit you not. Thats not the reason behind this post, making fun of saskatchewan that is (though it easily could be), so I'll move on to the iris of the matter (oops, I meant heart).

It was the Navigation test. Nav is easy, when you get to use the GPS, sadly for the test, you can't use the GPS. Its like building a house without power tools, sure you can do it, but WHY WOULD YOU?

I digress, this Nav test is done at around 500 feet above ground. Seems pretty high right? well we're doing 240kts over the ground...thats about...oh...480km/h (slightly more than my civi can do down the Trans Canada). So you're going at a pretty good clip, hoping like hell you don't hit anyone who is also flying around also at 500ft and 240knots. Some nav trips you see lots of people, other trips are devoid of other aircraft. When you don't see anyone else you think to yourself, is there ACTUALLY no one out here, or am I just not seeing them? Thankfully on the trip you have other things to worry about, like hitting the ground or a tower ( some of them out here are 800ft high), so you don't have much time to question your lookout technique. If you just had to bomb around it wouldnt be so hard, but you have to look at a map as well.

You ever try to look at a map and drive at the same time? Well imagine that, now imagine your map is 30 years out of date, and only haphazardly puts down roads, and most of the "towns" on the map are either a)non existant, or b) two houses. Im not sure if you've drive around sask, but farms usually have more than two houses. Thats right, sask have "towns" that have fewer buildings than single family dwellings.

This brings me to Eyebrow, its an actual town sized town. Sadly about 6 miles away, Brownlee is also a real town. 6 miles seems like a big distance, but not when you are traveling at 4 miles a minute.

For my test, after I flew the low level stuff (at 500ft) I was find the town a Eyebrow from about 40 miles away, near a little place called Liberty. Liberty is easy to find because it has a big 600 ft town next to it, but thats not the story. I leave Liberty (or did She leave me?) and set out for Eyebrow on a heading of 240 degree. Unfortunately Eyebrow is a track of 245 degrees from liberty. Liberty to brownlee is 235. It was a pretty clear day, so I could see quite far (about 15 miles), and in the distance I could see two towns. One on my left, and one of my right. I panic and make the wrong choice(the left town). As I get to closer to the town, I realize I am not at Eyebrow, none of the features around Eyebrow are there...I try to will the town to be Eyebrow...but nothing happens, the town insists on not being Eyebrow.

I fake it, and say "and we are over the target....now" and quickly add "should we return to base sir?"

He doesn't buy it, and tells me to orbit. I start looking at the town to the right, and realize its the town I was looking for. He asks me if I REALLY thought that was Eyebrow below us. I tell him its Brownlee, Eyebrow is that town (I point to the actual Eyebrow).

The exercise I explain above is a called a Mental Dead Reckoning. I had to redo it, but thankfully it went a lot better the second time around. We got down, and debriefed, he gave me a High Average. Had I chosen the town to the right, it would have been a Snake/superior (the highest mark you can get).

Funny thing is, on my pre-test, I did the same damn thing. Early in life I decided when given a choice between left and right: I would always choose left.

Im starting to think I should re-evaluate that choice.