Super Steam Gauge Super Cub

The last time I posted here was a week ago to report on my introduction to tailwheel flying after I had logged one hour of it in a Super Cub. This post is being logged after almost a full, second day of working on the tailwheel endorsement during which I logged more excellent learning and discussion on the ground along with two full hours and eighteen landings in that very same Super Cub. I can confirm that, of my 138 total flying hours, this is still the most fun I've had flying an airplane, even when things got tough...which they are bound to do just starting this out and learning to tap the rudders to keep the plane straight during takeoff and landing rolls as well as learning three-point landings where you put the plane into an attitude of trying to land the tailwheel first. In fact, today was even more fun than the last time because some of the skills are beginning to gain traction. My clumsy climb into and out of the tandem cockpit raised up on bush tires is even starting to look slightly less clumsy, although I imagine I still need many more climbs before I can look like I know what I'm doing.

Going from flying a glass cockpit G1000 C172 and C182 for most of my hours to the steam gauge Super Cub with a completely different sight picture and even way of sitting near my CFI (he sits behind me instead of to my right) has been truly refreshing and I can already notice ways that it is improving my flying:

1) I look outside more because the computer bells and whistles of the two G1000 screens are not pulling my eyes inside and down. Today this was especially tempting as we flew with the cockpit door open. There is nothing like feeling the wind against your skin as you fly an airplane and actually feel like you know what you're doing. I felt so free...and pretty cool.

2) I keep in mind that the plane is ahead of the instruments and that the G1000 is fibbing a bit because it can't possibly be as accurate about altitude and airspeed as it's saying. In a steam gauge plane, the needles are giving me the information and they are just about right but I don't focus on the minutiae of their numbers. For example, for the takeoff in the Cub, I push the throttle forward, let the stick go, feel the tailwheel come up on the roll, feel the stick move forward with a little tension, and then I know it's time to pull the stick back and take off.

3) I can't see over the nose during takeoffs and landings - the two activities that comprise the bulk of the tailwheel endorsement training. Instead, I must look at the periphery of my sight picture, at 10 and 2, at the runway, at the parked planes, at the lights on the side, and at the grass. In other words, I must take everything in and not zero in on the runway, something that I tend to do in the Cessna trike gear aircraft (and apparently I'm not alone). I would say I can't wait to see how this improves my flying the next time I fly the 182, but I'm much more excited to fly the Super Cub again. I almost don't care if I never get to fly the 182 again!

There are so many more things I'm excited about and have learned about tailwheel flying. Of my 18 takeoffs and landings today, only one was on a paved runway, so one more thing I've learned is that I would really love to find a way to have a home with a grass strip in the backyard.

The Funnest Flying Post Ever

Superlatives are appropriate for descriptions of aviation and I definitely use them. I've applied them to the "biggest" plane I've ever seen up close (a C5 at Airventure), the "best" flying moment I've ever had (up to this point, still the moment I passed my PPL checkride), the "bumpiest flight" (a windy flight to Gabreski Airport in a Cirrus with Mr. Aviatrix at the controls and doing a great job), the "most inspiring flight" (my first ever in a small plane with Mr. Aviatrix at the controls taking me on a date to lunch at Orange County Airport), the "scariest" flight (first solo cross-country), the "most restorative" flight (my first-ever ride in an open cockpit aircraft and in a Stearman provided by one of the wonderful, supportive owners of Tailwheels Etc. towards the end of my PPL training when I just thought I wasn't going to be able to finish and had the ample sweat and tears that day to back that feeling up), and the "coolest" aviation experience (watching the STOL competitors recreate the Valdez competition at Airventure) [see photos]:

Today I can add "funnest" to my list of aviation superlatives (the grammar police aren't sure if it's a real word, but I'm risking it). As of today, my funnest flight was in the front seat of a PA-18-160, aka Piper Super Cub, a classic tailwheel aircraft. If you heard someone in rural New Jersey whooping and yipping around 9:45 this morning, it was me taking off in the one at Andover Aeroflex as the tailwheel came off the ground and I gently pulled the stick back to climb into the air. I wasn't whooping so much when I had to climb into the thing, with its 29" bush tires and my 62" height, but I made it in and it felt like where I was meant to be. We worked on S-turns and fast-taxis on the ground, working to control that slippery, slithering tailwheel on the ground. As anyone who does tailwheel flying can attest, touching the wheels to the runway in the landing is just the beginning; once you're down you need to control the airplane to taxi it straight.

I brought a confidence to today's flying that I just haven't had in our C182, maybe because the plane is lighter and more in tune with the sky or maybe because this is the kind of flying I have wanted to do ever since my "coolest" experience at Airventure watching those pilots do their STOL flying. As the fantastic CFI and tailwheel expert (and something of a regional celebrity) with whom I trained today said, it's "like you're wearing it," which I think of as putting on your own wings and truly flying through the sky. Communing with the sky and nature and focusing on this purest of aircraft provided the feeling of "flow," a term coined and studied by psychologist and professor Dr. Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (I am a psychology associate prof myself, so must throw these references in from time to time). This is the sensation I seek and often get when I fly, the feeling that time and stress both pause as I focus on doing an engaging activity that requires my focus and concentration and that I love. It even gave me a research idea or two once I was back on the ground and out of the plane...