Student Cross Country
Monday was my long solo cross-country. The intention was to go from Petaluma (O69) to Willits (O28) and then Eureka's Murray Field (EKA), then south along the California coastline to Shelter Cove (0Q5), all the
way down to the mouth of the Russian River at Jenner, and home to Petaluma. I got more than I bargained for.

It was a bright dawn this morning in Petaluma, hazy through ground fog as I rolled bleary-eyed to the computer to download satellite images, METARs and TAFs for my intended route. I talked to WX-BRIEF for a while and got a very clear picture, which turned out to be nearly spot-on (other than winds aloft, of course). I decided to make it a Go, if I could, depending on the condition of the plane.

The C152 I was renting had been in the shop since 7am. By the time I arrived at 8am, the solution had been deduced and was being soldered together. I brought a dozen donuts for the shop crew, thinking that a sugar-induced frenzy might get them to solve the radio problem that had been plaguing this particular aircraft for a few days. I knew I had about 4.5 hours of flying to do and I had to have the plane back by 2pm, so I set 9am as my no-go time. I farted around and drank coffee until 8:35, when they finally wheeled the machine out into a nice clear morning. I ran all my checklists, checked out the plane to within an inch of its existence, fueled, armed myself with all my paperwork, and set sail at 8:51am local time.

First thing to do was activate my flight plan and get Flight Following for as far as it would take me. I was cruising at 4500 feet in known territory just south of Santa Rosa. I picked up Flight Following and enjoyed the scenery---snow to about 3000 feet on the peaks adjacent to me, fog and low clouds in the valleys. I had to dodge some clouds to maintain VFR minimum clearances, but it wasn't difficult since most of the tops were about my height. Radar coverage lasted until I was near Ukiah, but I was never alerted to any traffic; it was a quiet day.

Part of my straight-line flight to Willits included an excursion from the highway I was following, and I got a little turned around in the process, probably due to cloud avoidance and ended up about two miles west of Willits. I had been aiming for what I thought was a microwave tower that turned out to be a fire tower instead. I could clearly see the town of Willits through the pass, though, so over I went, only 3 minutes off schedule. The airport there is set on a hill above the town, which isn't really apparent from the chart. I flew up the highway from town and suddenly there was an airport up on a ridge, and I was already at pattern altitude. I swung in and landed uneventfully, and stopped to reconfigure my lapboard with the right chart orientation and flight paperwork. I tried phoning the FSS to close my flight plan, but the line was busy, so I decided to do it from the air since I was leaving immediately.

I back-taxied to the beginning of the deserted runway and took off to the north again, over snow in the crevices of the hill. Lots of low clouds around, I climbed at Vx for nearly 10 minutes (with short breaks for the engine) to stay legal, and called Oakland Center when I got up to 6500 to cancel the flight plan and file anew. Weird reading my own name and phone number over the radio. I headed north, although my planned timing was rather off due to the long climb--I had expected a cruise-climb to 4500.

At 6500 I was above many of the clouds, but others were cumulating high to the sides, and below it was looking rather broken instead of scattered, so I decided to go the low route to Garberville and then take stock. I followed highway 101 for miles at about 1000 feet above, plenty of landing space on the quiet freeway if the engine quit. I fumbled with my E6B and noticed I was only making about 75 knots, at 95 indicated, still faster than the traffic below, but I was beneath the broken layer of clouds and having a great time following the turns of the freeway and bumping around in the turbulence. I finally got to the big bowl canyon that Garberville sits in, and the ground fell away and I had altitude again.

I swapped sectionals and took stock of the situation. The weather ahead looked worse. I climbed again up to 6500 and asked ATC for updated weather, but the station at Fortuna was down. Arcata was reading scattered and broken in light rain, but Arcata is another 25 miles north of where I was headed. At 6500 I could see a large wall of weather banked along the ridge that separates the coastal range from the Eel river valley that stretches from Fortuna all the way to Eureka, and I had a decision to make: climb to 8500 and hope I was over the white puffy stuff, or descend to find a way under it. The cumulus looked higher than 8500 from where I was sitting, so I elected to go under. I had already gone west avoiding clouds, so I found a rather large hole in the layer beneath me and set up a steep spiral down through it, keeping an eye on the surrounding weather all the way down. At about 2500 feet I was still 1500 feet or so above the ground and beneath the clouds, and it was heavy rain and fog to the north and east. I could see the coast about 15 miles away to the west, shining in the sun, so that's where I headed.

On the way I nearly decided to forego the trip into the Eel river valley altogether and simply head for my next checkpoint at Shelter Cove, but I really wanted to get up there. My wife and I are thinking about buying
property in Ferndale someday, just west of Rohnerville and Fortuna, plus I wanted to make sure I landed at an airport 150nm away from home base. Shelter Cove is only 126, Fortuna is 154. I stayed well west of the weather and popped over that same ridge several miles to the west of my intended northbound route, right over Ferndale in fact, and decided to stop for fuel in Fortuna and forego Eureka altogether, as it looked dark further north and I was already half an hour over schedule. I cancelled my flight plan and landed at FOT.

Fueling was self-serve, and no one was on the radio. The place was nearly completely deserted, except for a light twin that took off 5 minutes after I landed. No one to sign the logbook. I fueled the plane, called home for a chat, and set up the camera on the fuel pump to take a picture of myself with the plane. Back across the riverbed plain to Ferndale I hit light rain and a nearly circular rainbow that followed me right to Ferndale. Then out another mile to the coast, climb to 2500 feet, and south along the water's edge.

Flying along the "lost coast" is something I will never get over, and will probably do many times. There was some turbulence kicked up by the proximity to the steep hills that come right down to the beach, but the land is pristine and unpopulated, and breathtakingly beautiful, redwoods and huge stones. The 20-knot headwind I had fought the whole way up was now a tailwind and I made impressive groundspeed, and was in Shelter Cove quickly.

In Shelter Cove I had another decision to make: continue along the coast to Jenner or Bodega Bay as I had intended, or just head home directly? The weather wasn't bad, but the scattered layer would make for a lot of dodging, and I had to have the plane back by 2pm. It was nearly 12:45, thanks to the weather diversion as well as my decision to continue on to Fortuna. I elected to go south as far as Mendocino and then head home directly, over the weather if possible. I sat for a few minutes and planned new checkpoints and distances, times, etc., and then started up and left. Something to remember about that wonderful little airport: it has a hump in the middle of the runway, you can't see the other end! It looks really, really short when you're taking off. Something else to remember: it looks like a nice spot to bring my wife and son sometime soon, when I can fly passengers.

The coastline to Mendocino was more of the same unpopulated rugged shoreline, and then the small boroughs of Fort Bragg and Mendocino (another possible retirement spot). Then I climbed to get above the clouds. And climbed. And climbed. Since I was heading southwest I needed an odd multiple plus 500 feet. At 5500 I was still blocked. At 7500 I was beginning to see the tops. I called for Flight Following---ok, first I called Flight Watch by mistake, but they gave me the right frequency for Oakland Center since apparently they don't do Flight Following there---and mentioned that I was "slowly climbing to 9500". He asked my type of aircraft, and when I said "C152" he said "Ok, situation understood". I was making a solid 400fpm at 2300rpm, not too shabby for a 22-year-old aircraft that wasn't peppy when it was new. The hamsters under the hood were sweating, though.

I had never been as high as 9500, but I flew that way all the way home---at 96 knots indicated and a lean 2300rpm, but my groundspeed calculated out to 131 knots, and I was home very quickly. As I was coming near to Petaluma and descending I cancelled Flight Following and called Petaluma traffic, and I heard my instructor's voice on the radio, "How's it going, Jeff?" I responded honestly "It's going very, very well, I'll tell you all about it." I got in line for landing, spotted all the traffic, and just felt like a pro. Squeaked the landing, too.

I was gone for 5 hours and 10 minutes and logged 4.7 hours on the Hobbs, which means that the plane was only off for a total of 1/2 hour. 20 minutes of that was spent fueling and peeing, the rest on the ground at Shelter Cove where I drew up a new flight plan for the trip home, with new checkpoints, ETEs, etc. I landed at 1:59 local time, fueled the plane and at 2:07 gave the keys to the next student who was very patiently waiting. I said "It's full, and it goes to Eureka and back".

What would I have done differently? Probably not much, and I figure if I can say that after a 4.7-hour flight in which I was weathered out of my primary destination, I must be doing something right. The only time I didn't know precisely where I was, even in the thick weather, was when got a couple of miles west of my first landing point in Willits. I stayed legal with respect to cloud clearances and quadrangle heights, talked to all the right people on the radio, and had a fantastic time. Only wish I could have stayed for lunch in Shelter Cove.

I think the experience in weather avoidance was invaluable, the scenery was breathtaking, and I want to go do it again as soon as I am able. Heck, I could do that every day and not get tired of it.
Jefro

Solo Cross-Country (Radio Failure)
Sent a student on a second cross-country today. What happened was a first time experience for me and a good
learning experience for him.

Plan was for student to leave shortly after 10 a.m. Actual departure time was after 12 p.m. I had checked weather before he came over for me to go over his planning. Forecast was fine except for strong winds after 2 p.m.

His flight was to leave Concord for Salinas for his first leg. Second leg was from Salinas to Watsonville to Half Moon Bay. Last leg was from Half Moon Bay to Concord.

I was very unexpectedly called out of town and had to leave about three o'clock for a drive to Petaluma. I
contacted Oakland FSS and requested that they advise my student that I would not be available when he returned for an arrival debriefing as I usually do. FSS said that he was en route to Watsonville and that they would make an effort to advise him.

As I crossed the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge my pager was activated. My student was on the ground at Half Moon with a radio that would not transmit. I told him to fly to Petaluma where I would meet with him at 4:30 and I would return to Concord with him and my wife would drive home alone.

I immediately contacted Oakland FSS and advised them of our plan. I also asked that they contact Bay Tracon to advise them that my student would be NORDO while transiting below the Class Bravo airspace enroute to Petaluma. FSS put me on hold while trying to coordinate this arrangement. After several minutes FSS said that I would need to do this with TRACON for myself. I agreed to do this after he gave me a number to call. I asked FSS to advise Concord Tower that we would be coming in NORDO after 5 p.m.

I called TRACON and advised them that my student would be departing Half Moon Bay and while unable to transmit would be squawking 7600 and monitoring the approach frequencies while enroute Petaluma. Apparently my student had not departed yet since no squawk was seen. He said that he saw no problem just as I did.

I had completed my business in Petaluma by four o'clock and was at the airport by 4:15. The winds had picked up and delayed my student's arrival. In the meantime I had gone into the airport office and arranged to use Unicom. When my student arrived I picked him up entering downwind. The strong crosswind had him too close in on his downwind so I told him to fly wider so as to get a longer base. I also told him not to shut down when he taxied in. His landing went fine.

I boarded and we departed Petaluma for Concord. I used the flight to show him a couple of unfamiliar airports and to practice tracking to a VOR in a strong crosswind. As we neared CCR I had the student squawk 7600 as we neared CCR in the hopes that Travis Approach would advise CCR of our arrival. After getting the ATIS we flew over CCR and began to track outbound on a 45-degree course in preparation for returning on the inbound
45 to the downwind.

CCR Tower spotted us outbound and told us to turn downwind for landing. This saved us some time but we had to lose some altitude, which we did with no problem. Tower asked if we were hearing them. Student waved his wings in acknowledgement and we were cleared to land. We landed with no difficulty. As we stopped clear of the runway we were told to taxi to our hangar on the other side of the airport.

We talked over the flight on our way home and both the student and I agreed that he could have made the original planned flight with no difficulty since we had simulated and talked over the process before as a total radio failure. Having the receiver working made it a piece of cake. What did the world do before pagers and cell phones?
Gene Whitt

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