One of the sad realities of the private pilot's training in Hawaii was best expressed to me by my airman buddy Greg at another pilot friend's backyard party. I excitedly related to him how I was in the cross country/navigation/flight planning part of my training. Happily blathering on about fuel burn, inactive VORs and what you would do if you had to ditch in a channel between islands, I shared the wonder of the experience.
'Enjoy it', Greg replied.
'Once you make a couple of trips, you'll have done all you can do here'.
Oh...I guess he's right.
So far I've flown 2 or 3 cross country flights and they have been absolutely spectacular. We had simply perfect flying weather on Maui several weeks ago, postfrontal high pressure that cleared the skies and subdued the winds but only for a few days before the next front came through. During those few precious days of good weather, I scheduled as much time in the plane as I could and planned a couple of interisland XC trips with my trusty CFI Fletch making sure my i's were dotted and t's were crossed.
Navigation for the private pilot consists primarily of looking at a map (or, 'sectional' as they're called in aviation), looking out the window and making sure you know where you are on the map. Before the flight, during flight planning, the pilot will pick a series of waypoints between the departure point and destination. Each of these waypoints acts as a stepping stone along the path of the flight. In this way, the pilot must simply avoid getting lost by flying from one landmark to the next along the route of flight. It's a piece of cake.
In Hawaii, the terrain is so easily identifiable from the air, getting lost is virtually impossible. You never lose site of the island you are flying to or from. Almost all of the airports are near the shoreline. If you were completely inept, all you'd have to do to keep from getting lost would be to fly toward an island and then fly around it's shoreline until you got to the airport you were looking for. Hence Greg's remarks about the shine of navigation wearing off.
My last 2 XC flights have been remarkable for the great weather and fantastic views afforded by the great visibility. On the first of the 2, we filed a round robin from Kahului to Molokai to Lanai and back to Kahului. It was just beautiful. The hardest thing about the flight was taking my eyes off of the stunning views of the islands to cross check our position on the sectional or touch base with an airport or UNICOM for traffic advisories. As we flew the last leg, back to Kahului, we took advantage of the rare weather opportunity to fly directly over the tops of the West Maui Mountains. I could kick myself for not having a camera with me.
As we flew across the channel toward Maui, we climbed. By the time we got to the 10 mile class C contact point, we were at 6,500' and advised Kahului approach that we were inbound from over the top of the West Maui's. It was awesome! We were maybe 300-500 feet above the highest peaks, looking down the wings into canyons that were thousands of feet deep and completely inaccessible. With the evening sun behind us, the ridges and peaks were lit in a deep sunset light, drawing out the emerald hues of pristine cloud forest vegetation that almost never sees the light of day. Stunning.
As we crested the mountain range, Fletch pulled carb heat, cut the throttles and set me up for a mock engine out into Kahului. It was sort of amusing, from 6,500' I could have glided back to Lanai, but hey...fun right? After getting clearance from ATC for landing and noting that the 60KIAS best glide speed was agonizingly slow as well as overly efficient, I decided to fly a more aggressive 80KIAS approach speed. Even at that higher airspeed I crossed the outer marker at the mill above 3,000' (or, 2000' high) and had to pull full flaps and dive to get down to the runway. It was a fun exercise, sort of like flying a hang glider from the top of the West Maui's to land at Kahului.
A few days later we enjoyed another flawless flying day for my first longish trip and my first work under the hood. I planned an XC from Kahului to Upolu, across the channel on the north end of the Big Island. This time I took a camera and got some great pics of the trip.
We started out down the coast off the north shore toward Hana. At Hana, we kept going out into the channel toward Upolu. This crossing is a little bit eery. The Big Island is far enough away that you can't see it from Maui all the time. The twin mountains are usually obscured by clouds and blend in with the atmospheric haze on all but the clearest of days. It's sort of weird to leave the Maui shoreline pointed toward clouds, trusting that your destination is out there but not being able to see it at all. All you see are the windswept waves beneath, slipping by underneath the plane.
Thankfully, Fletch broke up the weirdness by introducing me to the hood and flying solely by reference to instruments. What a great exercise. As mentally prepared for this as I was, it was still a big surprise. Once I got the foggles on and my vision was restricted to just the panel, I just couldn't shake the feeling that the plane was banking to the left. I kept applying a very slight correction to the right, sending us into a right bank. It was a lot of work to fly straight and level along a known course, in good weather without working on or thinking about anything else. I have a lot of respect for instrument proficient pilots...that's an awesome skill!
My flight planning got us to the Big Island fine and from 5-10 miles out we made visual course corrections to get us to the northernmost point and Upolu airport. This airport is kind of funny. It's all by itself on this little point way out in the middle of nowhere on the Big Island. There was a little blue c-172 with yellow flames painted on the cowl. I've seen that plane on the ramp at Maui before and thought that must be what it's for, to carry it's owner back and forth from the middle of nowhere to civilization.
The landing at Upolu was a little bit rough with the crosswind coming over the ocean cliffs. We touched down a little long and had to back taxi to take off again. Tiny little runway on a lava point jutting out into the sea, it amazes me the neat experiences you get to have as a pilot. As we taxied back down the runway to the end, Fletch reminded me to stay off the edges of the runway to avoid striking the prop on grass, sand and gravel that had accumulated on the runway shoulder.
We took off and went around for another landing. This one was much better.
And that was it. As suddenly and out of nowhere as we'd arrived at the tiny airstrip by the sea, we began a climb out to the west toward Haleakala and were gone.
On the way across the channel we climbed and took photos. I trimmed 7-3-3-2-Lima for Vy and watched as the altimeter slowly turned as we chugged across the channel. I swear this little Cessna is the little airplane that could whenever you ask her to climb with more than one occupant. I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...all the way across the channel. Well, that little, slow Vy climb gradually built. As we motored closer to Maui, we gained altitude. By the time we were onshore, we were at 8500' and looking good to clear the summit of Haleakala. I picked a low spot on the ridge to cross and flew right past the observatory at the summit. What a spectacular view! Telescopes on the summit of the mountain right beside us, with the whole valley stretched out in front of us.
Determined to ruin the engine in 3-2-Lima before his tenure is up, Fletch pulled carb heat, closed the throttle and let me 'glide it in' from 10,000'. I think he'd like flying gliders, it's what he wants to do in the plane every time he gets a little bit high! We flew a brisk 75kts to the airport and made it to the mill with 3000'.
And that's it for dual XC's. I'll probably do another one with Fletch to get more time under the foggles. Then there's the night XC. Then there's my 10 hours of solo XC time...I'm getting close to being ready for the