300 nautical mile commercial cross-country

My pilot friend and fellow commercial student, Cam, and I have been trying for some time to get our 300 NM cross-country flight done. Weather has thwarted us several times but we were finally able to do it yesterday, on a sunny lovely prairie day.

In Canada, we are required to complete a cross-country flight to a destination 300 NM in a straight line from our point of origin, with two landings enroute. We chose to go to Humboldt, a very small town in Saskatchewan, which is 300.1 nautical miles from Cooking Lake, our home airport. Our waypoints were Lloydminster, on the Alberta/Saskatchewan border, and North Battleford, Saskatchewan. We chose the route because a) the weather was good in that direction b) it was the right distance without going much farther than necessary and c) it happened to be on the VNC (VFR navigation chart aka map) that we already had. I flew there and Cam flew back so both of us got our 300s done!

We did a quick review of our flight plan with an instructor on Friday, the day before our flight. Saturday morning was calm and beautiful and we took off just before 8:00 a.m.

Lloydminster, our first stop, is on the wide-open prairie and I loved the feeling of spaciousness as we approached. Our arrival into the busy MF there went smoothly after we were handed off from flight following with Edmonton Centre. After a short rest, we departed for North Battleford. I expected the prairie scenery to be similar all the way but there was a lot of variation – hills, rivers, lakes, different crops and colours – and the landscape sparkled in the sunlight.

The arrival into North Battleford was beautiful, with the town set beside the wide North Saskatchewan River. 

On the ground there, I checked the weather and filed the next flight plan. Once we had refueled, we began the longest segment to Humboldt. The weather briefer had told me that there were isolated thunderstorms developing across Saskatchewan but that we'd be able to get around them easily. We never did see them but there were showers and there was more cloud build-up on that leg and it was bumpy! 

Just after setting out, we heard a radio call from another 172 that was also heading for Humboldt. I never saw him but I made frequent position reports to ensure we maintained safe spacing. 

The area around Humboldt has a thousand tiny lakes dotted amongst the fields! 

Humboldt Lake

The airport is small, the runway short and narrow, but I was thrilled to land there. We met the pilot of the other plane, who landed just behind us, and then chilled for a few minutes in the tiny terminal before starting Cam’s trip back. 

This was an amazing day! I experienced a longer trip in unfamiliar airspace and over new geography. Cam was easy, fun company and it made me feel secure to have another pilot with me but I knew what I was doing and I realized on this trip how much I've grown as a pilot. I reflected on how aviation has introduced me to some great people and given me a whole new appreciation for the beauty of the prairies. It was such a privilege to be able to do this!

Frustrations and their benefits

In the last six weeks, a few things have interfered with my satisfaction with flying. I think it's important to acknowledge when things aren't going well. It's OK to feel down about things sometimes. As well, in reflecting on issues that arise, it's possible to learn from them and/or develop a plan to overcome them.

The biggest problem for me recently has been illness. I developed an overwhelming cough and was quite sick for the better part of a month. Needless to say, I barely flew at all, except when I felt slightly perkier for a couple of days and was able to squeeze in two back-to-back flights in early May. I probably wouldn't even have bothered except that I had a couple of hours remaining on some pre-purchased block time, which was about to expire, so I dragged myself out to the airport to get in a little time. I feel better now but the cough and fatigue are lingering so I am still taking it slowly. It's never good timing to be sick but sometimes it's a way of being forced to slow down and rest and renew yourself. There's nothing like being grounded to make you eager to fly again!

Even though our long and harsh winter finally came to an end in late April, the weather has still been an issue. It's been as windy as Jupiter almost every day for the last five or six weeks. I still worry about wind because I'm never sure if I can land on a windy day. Still, it's been so windy that, even if I had more confidence and skill, there have been many days where flying would be iffy. I was supposed to do my 300 NM cross-country trip, a requirement for the commercial pilot license, with a fellow pilot on May 19. We had to cancel because the winds were 20 knots, gusting to 30 at a 90 degree angle to the runway at Cooking Lake. It's been very frustrating and has interfered with my flying goals this month.

The windy weather, while frustrating, does present some opportunity though. I do need practice with windier conditions and there's no shortage of days for that! On one of those early May flights, my pilot friend Cam and I flew to a nearby airport. It was SO bumpy, I couldn't even let go of the controls long enough to switch to my sunglasses. The approach was crazy wild, with strong winds, wind shear, and crosswinds. Once I made it to the ground, the landing was good but it was a wrestle to get it there. Cam and I had to laugh at the conditions that day and, once we were down, we both said it had been a little bit fun and challenging in a good way. I finally flew again yesterday, three weeks after that wild ride. I went to Wetaskiwin, 30 NM away. I left at 7:00 a.m. to try to beat the winds that typically pick up in midday. The winds on the ground at Cooking Lake and at Wetaskiwin were about 8-10 knots, only about 10-20 degrees off the runway, so pretty good. It was smooth in the climb-out and smooth and beautiful at altitude. But when I arrived at Wetaskiwin and turned final, the winds were 24 knots between 100 and 500 feet off the ground. I gave it a lot of power and practically rammed that plane down to the ground. The landing was good but wow! When I returned to Cooking Lake, I encountered the same conditions on final. I actually had to go around and try again because I couldn't quite get my airspeed and descent stabilized in that wind. The second time, I got it in with a passable landing. So much for the calm of the early morning! I don't like flying when it's like that but it is good practice and I was pleased that I handled that.

To continue my litany of complaints, I have felt discouraged socially. So far, I have never perceived any discrimination or exclusion from the other pilots at the airport, who tend to be young guys. I've always felt that they like me and see me as a pilot like any other. They are kind and friendly to me and always happy to see me. But I've realized lately that they do still tend to gravitate toward each other and tend to make their flying plans with each other. It makes perfect sense, of course. It's natural for them to want to be with each other. But it has highlighted for me lately that I am an older female pilot. Also, in general, I feel like I am more often scrounging for someone to fly with than I was before. My pilot friends have been less available to fly with me lately. I love to fly with my brother, who's a student pilot, but he works full-time and can't come with me every time I go. I know this is just the natural evolution of social life. But I feel the shift and I feel the ways that I am different.

Still, I want to use these feelings constructively. One thing that this shift does is force me to fly by myself. I haven't actually spent very much time alone in the plane. It's nice to have company and nice to have the security of another pilot-mind in the cockpit but I can fly a plane by myself and if my circumstances are pushing me to do more of that, that's a good thing. I went to Wetaskiwin alone yesterday and managed the conditions on my own, calmly and cooly. I am not going to wait for company - I'm just going to book a plane and go! It will be very good for me to learn to rely completely on myself. I will also focus more on taking non-pilot passengers with me. That will be fun in a new way, build my confidence as a trustworthy pilot, and give my friends a thrill, too. On a larger scale, I want to think about what it means to be a woman in aviation and an older new pilot. I can use my unique situation to inspire others and let them know that aviation is for anyone. I've reached out to a few women I know who have started and then left flight training or expressed interest in starting it to offer to take them flying and to encourage them in their pilot journeys. I have been pushed into greater self-reliance and have been prompted to think about how I can use myself to show aviation to others.

Finally, it's been very challenging to manage my job as a professor and invest the time I want to in my commercial pilot training. Being a professor is very demanding. It's competitive and the expectations are high. It's a more-than-full-time job. But my job is also very flexible and the pay is decent. I have come to appreciate more than ever how fortunate I am to have the means to pursue my flying goals, which my job provides. Focusing on this instead of the stress has helped me to balance, maintain, and cope with my commitment to both my job and my flight training.

I have to say that it's been a challenging month with a few frustrations. It can be hard to take. But I can see the lessons and opportunities that the challenges present. I don't believe in pretending that everything is hunky-dory when it isn't. That's not fair to ourselves and it takes away the opportunity to use difficult times constructively and productively. Growth is hard but growth is what I want.

Winter on the prairies

March was a rough month weather wise and winter still has an unusually late grip on the prairies. It's been unseasonably cold and the weather has been patchy and changeable. We've had snowstormy days that have suddenly cleared into lovely evenings and beautiful blue sky days that have deteriorated quickly. Still, in between periods of weird spring weather, there have been some opportunities to take flight over the white, winter prairies.

I was able to take my dad flying again after almost six months. We had flown together at the end of September and then in early November he had a stroke. There were days when I feared the worst and I wondered if we'd ever have the chance to fly together again. But he worked very hard on his therapy and made an amazing recovery. We were able to fly togeher again on March 11, which happened to be a gorgeous, perfect, warm, calm, blue sky day. We flew from Villeneuve to Drayton Valley, a 47 NM trip. Our route took us over Hubbles Lake where, in my other life as a triathlete, I swim in the summers with my friends, then past Wabamun Lake, and finally over the North Saskatchewan River as we neared Drayton Valley. We stayed on the ground there for a few minutes, soaking up the sunshine, before heading back. My dad was mostly quiet as he looked out the window at the trees and farmland passing beneath us. He later said how nostalgic he had felt for all the years he had been a pilot; he said it was so special to be able to fly with me. I felt honoured.

Hubbles Lake

I went to Camrose twice this month, two days in a row. Camrose is a small city, southeast of Edmonton, 26 NM from Cooking Lake Airport, which is my home airport. On March 12, my friend and I had plans to go for dinner. I asked her if she wanted to fly somewhere to get a meal and she agreed! We chose Camrose because it's a short flight and it's near her childhood home on a farm in the area. We walked into town for supper and got a ride back to the airport with her dad, who just happened to be in town at the same time. The next day, I went back to Camrose, this time with my brother, to meet our niece who lives there. She brought pizza to the airport and we ate it in the lovely little terminal there. It was really fun and the flight was beautiful, even though it was very hazy that afternoon.

Departing Camrose

My friend Doug and I have been wanting to fly to St. Paul, 70 NM to the northeast of Cooking Lake, for some time. St. Paul is the pretend destination on the cross country exercise for the private pilot flight test and we have always said we would go there for real one time! The day we went had been stormy all day and we were sure we'd have to cancel our plans. But by the evening, things had cleared up and we were able to head off. It turned out to be an amazingly gorgeous and smooth flight and we marveled about how beautiful it was that evening. We landed at home in the setting sun, making it back before the thunderstorms - in March! - started.

On the way to St. Paul

March 25 was another strange weather day but was clear and beautiful out at the airport, so I took off again with my dad, this time planning a triangle to the north and east of Cooking Lake. We were about 2/3 of the way to our first stop when we ran into very low cloud and poor weather. We didn't actually get caught in it but I knew we couldn't go any farther. We tried to divert to the nearest airport but it was under cloud as well so we went to the next closest one, which happened to be Camrose again! We landed there, taxied back to the threshold, and departed for home. We were always safely under clear blue sky but wanted to be sure we made it back before the weather could move in further.

Staying where the sky is blue

On my final flight in March, I went up with my pilot friend Cam. It was another crazy day with weather all around us and we debated about going at all. But it looked OK to the south so we decided to go the 60 NM to Lacombe. It was bumpy at low altitudes but we cruised at 7500 feet, about 5000 feet above ground, where it was smooth and beautiful. I flew the outbound leg. It was a bit of a windy wrestle in the circuit at Lacombe and I had a crosswind on landing but I did a nice job with it! The terminal there is beautiful so we hung out for a few minutes before leaving. The clouds had rolled in by the time we got back to Cooking Lake and the wind had picked up to a good 15 knots; thankfully for Cam it was pretty much straight down the runway. We were glad we got to squeeze in another flight.

Off to Lacombe at 7500' ASL

The snowy prairies are stunning and every day I get to fly over them is a joy. It was a good month. Now I'm looking forward to some green views from the cockpit.

Night rating!

Last week, I finally finished my night rating!

After a couple of instructor changes, a switch in flight schools (see post on Dec 13), several weather cancellations, and a few weeks dealing with family illness, I was able to put some time in during January and February to get this done!

In mid-January, I completed the required dual and instrument time. My instructor and I did some night circuits, I spent a couple hours in the simulator and under the hood with him guiding me, and we did a night cross-country trip to Rocky Mountain House, 88 NM southwest of Cooking Lake Airport.

In the simulator

On January 28, it was finally time for me to go solo, starting with some night circuits. I was a little apprehensive before heading out but it turned out to be a great evening. I was amazed at how precise my circuits and how greasy my landings were! It was a real confidence-builder and a great way to start off the solo time I had to do. 

Solo circuits

February brought some more nasty weather and some flights just for fun but when the chance to fly at night came again, I did a couple of cross-country trips to fill the remaining four hours of solo time. On February 22, I did a two-hour triangle from Cooking Lake to Camrose to Vegreville. I've traveled to these towns a few times before and chose it because I wanted to do a familiar route while adjusting to night flying. It was a lovely, peaceful trip and it went perfectly well. 

I did the last two hours on February 28. Alberta had received some snow the day before, so I decided to head east/southeast to Killam, 62 NM away, where the runway was most likely to be clear. The moon was almost full and it lit up the night, shining off the white, snowy fields. 

Moonlight and the Killam runway lights

The flight was smooth and quiet (only a few people on the radios at night). My landing at Killam was a beauty. I shut down there and went into the small terminal to eat my pear and cheese. I like the Killam airport because they often have homemade cookies and I was not disappointed this night! I enjoyed being the only one at the airport in the quiet darkness. The flight home was pleasant. After landing back at Cooking Lake, I did one more circuit just to get to the required 5 hour total. Once I shut down, I went inside where my instructor filled out the paperwork for my night rating!

Last night I did my first flight as a night-rated pilot. My pilot friend, Cam, and I flew to Rocky Mountain House. I was PIC on the way there; he flew us back. It's a nice flight because it takes you just south of the city, through Class C airspace, so there's some radio work to do. But there's a nice, long, quiet stretch over the prairies, too, once the city is behind you. 

Passing by the south end of the city on the way home from Rocky

Night flying is very different. There are certain unique risks but there's also peace and quiet and the beauty of the stars and the lights on the ground. I'm glad I've been able to add this to my flying skills. 

Ice pilots

I had the most amazing experience last Monday! I landed on an ice runway on a frozen lake!

I heard about the Gull Lake Fly-in through a pilot I follow on Instagram. I thought it sounded like a great experience so I asked my commercial instructor, Nathan, if he'd like to go with me. He was excited about it and, by the time the day came, three others, all pilots, had decided to come along, too! We set off from Cooking Lake in two planes, three in ours, with Nathan's student in the back, and two in the other.

It was cold and windy but it was one of those unbeatable blue-sky Alberta days! Gull Lake is 65 nautical miles southwest of Cooking Lake, about 40 minutes in the air. The flight there, over the central Alberta prairies, was stunningly beautiful!

Gull Lake is a big lake so we could see it in the distance, with the Rocky Mountains as a backdrop. The ice runway is on the southern edge of the lake so I flew out wide over the lake to join the downwind for runway 30 straight in.

Another plane was arriving from the east, moving faster than we were, and he wanted to land on 12. So to make that work, I crossed over the field from mid-downwind 30 to join the downwind for 12. My approach went over the open lake. There was a hefty crosswind, but I judged my turn to final just right and rode the centerline in. Nathan reminded me to slow down a bit, which was helpful, since I was focusing pretty hard on that narrow strip of clear ice! My landing was lovely. I was surprised by how rough the surface was and I figured out quickly to be careful of braking too hard. We rolled out to the end and taxied off, taking our place in the long line of parked airplanes.

Several people approached our plane (the white one in the picture) to welcome us, which was so nice! The organizer welcomed me by name; I had emailed him earlier about the event and I guess he knew it was me since I was the only female pilot there! We climbed out and found our friends, Ben and Aaron, who had arrived in the other plane, just minutes before us. My Instagram pilot friend found me and we met each other in person. Once we were all together, we walked off the lake and up the road to the community hall where they had coffee, hot chocolate, apple cider, and hotdogs. We sat outside the hall in a circle around the firepit, where we ate, roasted marshmallows, and laughed our heads off. When it was time to go, we climbed onto the hay wagon, which took us back out onto the ice, to our waiting airplanes.

Morgan, Nathan's student, flew us home. I rode in the backseat, which was so relaxing, and enjoyed the view. This was a very fun event and it was surreal to land on a lake! This was one of those incredible, pinch-yourself pilot experiences.

A little excitement

Yesterday, my pilot friend and I went flying together, as we often do. We planned to fly to Whitecourt, 105 nautical miles west of our home airport at Cooking Lake. It's a nice route over the city and then into a countryside dotted with lakes, with a view of the Rocky Mountains in the distance. I was PIC on the way out. We chose the route because it offers plenty of opportunity for radio work - obtaining clearance into Class C airspace over the city, making enroute position reports, and then communicating with the ground station (MF - mandatory frequency) in Whitecourt. We also wanted to request flight following, which is when you stay with air traffic control even after leaving the controlled airspace over the city, for the purpose of receiving traffic reports.

We settled in nicely as we flew over the city and then out over the fields. But, about 2/3 of the way to Whitecourt, our pleasant conversation was interrupted by a blaring alarm. A red warning flashed on the annunciator panel: High carbon monoxide level. I immediately turned off the heat and opened the vent by my face. Cam opened his vent and then got out the emergency procedures manual, which told us to do what we had done. With all of the vents open, the alarm turned off within a minute.

Thoughts ran through my head about what to do next and I think Cam was having the same ones. It seemed like things were OK. The alarm stayed off. But we pondered what to do. Whitecourt was about 20 minutes away. Should we keep heading in that direction? Turning back was a possibility, too, although it was nearing sunset and we didn't have time to make it all the way back before nightfall. So, that wasn't a great option since I don't have my night rating yet. As it happened, we were nearing the town of Mayerthorpe, which has a small airport. That seemed to be our best option.

In that situation, I was very happy that we were still on frequency with air traffic control for flight following. I radioed them and told them about our issue and our intention to divert to Mayerthorpe. We were at 6500 feet at the time and he said he would lose radar and radio contact with us once we were below about 4000 feet. He asked me to call him one final time at around that altitude. He also asked a commercial flight that was passing overhead if I could call them once we were safely on the ground, so that they could relay the message back to him.

I began the descent into Mayerthorpe and joined the circuit. The runway was covered in snow but thankfully it wasn't very deep and I could still see the pavement markings beneath the snow layer. My landing was nice but the runway was very uphill so it was interesting to adjust the landing flare. As we taxied to the tiny terminal, I radioed up to the overhead flight to let them know we were safely on the ground and to thank them for keeping an eye out for us. I heard the pilot (another woman!) radio back to air traffic control to let them know, too. We spent a few minutes in the terminal to take a few deeps breaths. We weren't scared and we kept our cool but once we were down, it struck us a little. I called in to amend our flight plan and told the briefer what had happened. Five minutes later, his supervisor called me back to ask if we were OK and if we needed any assistance on the ground. I said that things seemed fine at that point and that we were going to head back to Cooking Lake.

I was absolutely amazed at how many people rallied to help us out, even in a minor emergency situation. It chokes me up to think of it now. Although it was up to me/us to make the decisions and get back down, I felt like a lot of people were with us in those few minutes. It was good to experience that.

Once we caught our breath, we climbed back into our plane and rubbed the dash lovingly so it would be kind to us on the way back. Cam flew what turned out to be a beautiful, peaceful, uneventful night flight back home.

Letting it unfold

I am very definitely a "destination" person rather than a "journey" person. I am goal-oriented and certain about what I want to achieve. I have been learning a lot lately about being in the present and letting the process unfold. More and more, I see how the letting go can lead to things I never expected.

Flying parallels life in so many ways and yesterday I saw this lesson in action yet again.

I had a plane booked for the afternoon and had arranged to fly with another pilot. The evening before, he messaged me to say that his schedule (he flies commercially) didn't work out after all for him to fly with me.

I started to ask other pilot friends if they wanted to come along and even posted an invitation on a Facebook group for fellow pilots at Cooking Lake. But all of them said they couldn't join me due to work and family events. Being a little nervous about flying on my own, I quietly hoped the weather, which was looking iffy, would lead to a cancellation and I'd be off the hook. But, lo and behold, the day turned out to be bright and sunny and the forecasted snow never materialized. It seemed I had no good reason to cancel, so I left for the airport.

There was a light crosswind at the airport so I was just that much more nervous thinking about heading off on my own. But honestly, I do know how to do it and practicing with a slight crosswind would be fine and good for me. So I climbed into the plane. The airport was crazy busy on such a nice day and I could hardly manoeuvre the plane around all the others on the ramp. As I slowly crept forward, I passed a fellow pilot, Aaron, who did his training around the same time as me, as he taxied in from his multi-engine lesson. We waved at each other.

I taxied down to the other end of the airport to do my run-up at the active end of the runway. While I was working through the checklist, Aaron came on the radio saying, "Hey, Sarah, don't go! Can I go with you?" I taxied back down to the hangar and saw him running across the apron. He hopped in and we got ourselves out of the traffic jam again and headed off.

Climbing out of Cooking Lake enroute to Vegreville

I hadn't flown with Aaron before, although we had said we wanted to go together sometime. This turned out to be a perfectly serendipitous opportunity that I never thought would happen and didn't see coming. I was almost about to take off alone and then everything changed! And we had a blast! We talked easily and laughed a lot. We talked about our own flight training and flight tests and our plans for flying careers in the future. When we landed in Vegreville, Aaron had arranged for a friend to meet him at the airport to say hi. I was introduced to him and the two of them climbed into the plane to have a look and take selfies. We were only on the ground for about 15 minutes (had to get back before dark) but it was one of those rare moments with friends or even strangers that just make you smile and feel like life is good.

The flight back was great, too, and as we neared our home airport, a friend of mine from commercial ground school recognized my voice on the radio as he was also approaching the airport. He said, "Is that Sarah?" I said yes! We cracked a few jokes as we also negotiated our position in the circuit. He landed just before me and then watched me land, broadcasting on the radio to everyone in the area that my landing was a good one. Back in the hangar as I filled out the paperwork, we talked with other students and instructors and had some good laughs.

This was such a great day! I was so pumped after it was over. I had begun by wishing the weather would interfere so I didn't have to fly alone. Yet, it unfolded to be a fabulous series of events that I never could have planned. I am so glad I took the first step and allowed such a wonderful day to unfold. If I had tried to control it and fear it, I would have ended up staying at home and missing it all. This is a great lesson for life. Take the first step and you might be amazed!