Bouncing Around the Inland Empire

By Eric McCarthy 

I shared in an earlier column that when I moved here to Southern California, one of the first things I did was get to work on my Commercial Pilot Certificate. I joined a local flying club with airplanes at the airport I intended to fly out of, Palomar (KCRQ), and connected to an instructor there. I decided to do this for several reasons:

First and most importantly, to improve my piloting skills; that’s pretty straightforward – as pilots, we should always be learning and striving to improve our skills, and upgrading my license would provide a great opportunity to do so.

Second, as a newcomer to Southern California, I needed to get familiarized with the area, landmarks, airspace, etc. Flying around the area with a seasoned, local instructor who understood that this was part of my motivation, provided about as good an introduction to the area as possible. As the weeks of training passed, I grew more and more familiar, and comfortable, with the area, just as I had hoped.

Third, I was looking for opportunities to meet and associate with fellow aviators – basically, any excuse to hang out at the airport. My training schedule brought me to the airport at least twice per week.

And fourth, the rules concerning compensation for aviation-related work are a little muddy when it comes to aerial photography: are you being compensated for flying (a private pilot no-no) or is flying ancillary to the photography? I’ve heard both sides argued, but what really clinched it for me was that a private pilot may not “hold out for services” (see Part 61.113). For example, a private pilot could show up on your doorstep and say, “I took this aerial picture of your house; would you like to buy it for $100?” But he may not say, “If you’ll pay me $100, I’ll take aerial photos of your house” – that would be offering a (flying) service for compensation, which a private pilot cannot do. Since that was exactly what I wanted to do, combined, of course, with all the other reasons, that made for an easy, albeit expensive, decision.

I say expensive because, well, it was expensive! I rented aircraft through the flying club ranging in price from about $100/hour for a Cessna 172 to a Piper Arrow that rented for about $125/hour, plus my instructor at $65/hour, and then add in other miscellaneous expenses like test prep materials, the written test itself, the flight exam, books, monthly dues, etc. – I think it came out close to $200/hour and when all is said and done; I flew just over 50 hours to get the license – it hurts to do the math!

And a good chunk of that came when I went to see the DPE – the Designated Pilot Examiner – for the flight exam. Let me explain:

We moved to Southern California in June of that year, and the weather had been nothing less than spectacular – everyday a beautiful, warm, clear day – right up to the day I was scheduled to take the flight test. I couldn’t believe it – we had hardly even seen a cloud in the preceding six months, and that day, it decided to rain!

I called my DPE and explained that, although I was well-prepared for the flight that day, I was not comfortable flying through the low clouds that infested the coast and beyond that day. I explained that I was from the Boston area where it was relatively flat – terrain generally wasn’t an issue until you got well north into New Hampshire and Maine, and even there, most of the mountains are mere hills compared to what we have here in SoCal. To get to Chino (KCNO) from Palomar, I’d have to get to the other side of the coastal range that included some five and 6,000 foot mountains enshrouded in clouds – no thanks!

“Well, that sounds like good decision making to me. Let’s reschedule…” he said. Well, alright! Chalk one up for me! We rescheduled the exam for three weeks out – just after Christmas, Dec. 28.

Okay, let’s try this again; I rented the Arrow, N3272R, a 1969 PA28R-180, got a hold of and organized all the required paperwork, including all of my documentation, the basic aircraft AROW docs, and the plane’s maintenance records. It was a beautiful, calm day and after a quick flight to Chino, I set out to find the DPE. I found him in his hanger working on a ’63 split-window Corvette, and it quickly became obvious that he was not expecting me! Fortunately, the car was just a diversion for him, and he readily dropped his tools to accommodate me. He showed me around his FBO and extensive collection of cars, motorcycles, planes, and aviation memorabilia; we talked about his aviation experience, flying the T-38 in the Air Force and Gulfstream G-IV charters at that time, and aviation in general. Recognizing that pilots facing an examination will be nervous, part of the DPE’s charge is to establish rapport and make the candidate feel “comfortable”; my DPE did a great job at that – I really enjoyed spending time with him. We eventually reported to his office and got down to the business at hand. We got through the oral portion of the evaluation, and he began to review my paperwork – AROW documents, aircraft maintenance records, my license, logbook endorsements – all seemed in order until: “hmmm…I don’t see a two-hour, 100-mile night cross-country with an instructor…”

A what!! A two-hour, 100-mile night cross-county with an instructor? Really? Bear in-mind, I’d been flying for more than 30 years at this point – maybe not a lot of hours, but for a long time!

“Yep – I don’t see it…I’ll tell you what – I’ve got to give the FAA 24 hours’ notice of a checkride, so let’s go schedule the checkride for tomorrow at this time. You call your instructor and make arrangements to fly tonight and I’ll see you back here tomorrow.”

Ugh! I contacted my instructor, who, fortunately, was available, reserved the Arrow for the evening and flew back to Palomar for a quick sandwich while waiting for him to arrive.

I had planned a flight to Camarillo, and while we waited for darkness to overtake the field, we reviewed the flight plan and the weather briefing I had obtained. I preflighted the plane for the third time that day, and we were off. Don’t get me wrong – I love to fly, and this would be another adventure to somewhere I’d never been, but “the meter was running” throughout all of this…

It was a typically clear, smooth evening flight up the coast, with ATC providing vectors to final for the VOR RWY 26 approach. We landed, taxied back, and departed back to Palomar, another easy cruise down the coast. Mission accomplished! But, including the flights to and from Chino, and my instructor, it was a $650 day…

The next day dawned with clear skies but blustery winds. I departed Palomar early afternoon for my appointment at 2 p.m. It was pretty turbulent, a moderate chop, as I made my way up to Chino – not a good sign. This was not going to be an easy day – and what I was experiencing was nothing compared to what I’d get in the Inland Empire – the winds there were hellacious! But I’m getting ahead of myself…

I met my DPE, who was expecting me this time, and we went to his office to finish up the last of the paperwork. At his request, I had plotted a flight to Henderson, Nev. (KHND), careful to make routing decisions based first and foremost on safety, mindful of the wind, mountain passes, and special-use airspace. I briefed him on the weather, explained our fuel status (.8 hours burned on full, 50-gallon tanks) and answered a few remaining questions he had. A few minutes later we were ready for the flight.

“It’s pretty windy out there today – let me be the evaluator! You just fly the plane and execute the maneuvers; don’t worry about how you’re doing.”

Much easier said than done!

I carefully preflighted the plane, making sure to follow the checklist as he looked over my shoulder. We boarded the plane, I made sure we were both buckled in and the door was closed properly and got the sometimes-cantankerous fuel-injected engine started. Ground had us taxi via Charlie to the 7,000-foot runway 26L, and after a careful run up and the preflight passenger brief, we were ready to go. Let the fun begin!

I had planned to fly to HESPE intersection to get through the Cajon Pass before turning east toward Henderson, so I requested a northeast departure. Chino’s located pretty much in the middle of the Inland Empire – the eastern portion of the LA Basin – it’s a very congested area with at least a half dozen airports within a 10-mile radius. Immediately to the north is Ontario International (KONT) – in fact, Chino airport sits in a “cutout” of Ontario’s surface-level Class Charlie airspace. Departing anywhere north of Chino requires coordination with Ontario, which the tower readily provided. As I recall, they wanted us to pass over mid-field at 2,500 feet, then on-course. It’s not really difficult, but when you’re unfamiliar with the area, getting bounced around in (un)steady turbulence, and already nervous because of the circumstances, well, let’s just say task saturation begins to rear its ugly head…

I managed to get us through Ontario’s airspace, turned on-course, and began a climb to our cruise altitude to Henderson.

DPE: “Change of plans: let’s go to Rialto (L67).”(Rialto was still open at the time…)

We were getting bashed around pretty good by the 30-45kt winds blowing through the valley, but I managed to quickly locate Rialto on the sectional I had pre-folded on my kneeboard and turned toward it.

Satisfied I could find my way around, my DPE decided it was time for some math:

“Ok, cancel that – let’s go to Van Nuys. Do we have enough fuel to get there?”

I knew we had plenty of fuel, but that wasn’t really what he was looking for. I executed a 180 to head west toward the San Fernando Valley, and tried to estimate the distance from our present position on the bouncing sectional in my lap. I quickly guessed it to be about 40 nm; we were flying about 120kts, so that would be about 20 minutes or 1/3 of an hour. We were burning about 9-10 gallons per hour, so we’d need three to four gallons to get there. Mind you, while I’m doing all this, I’m desperately trying to maintain my assigned altitude within 100 feet and not really doing a very good job of it in the steady, violent turbulence.

Now for some instrument work. We had done the commercial maneuvers: Lazy 8s and Chandelles, etc., so I dutifully donned the hood and endured the usual hood work of steep turns and unusual attitude recoveries. Again, while these maneuvers are pretty benign in calm conditions, the turbulence made this extremely challenging. I was sweating bullets!

By this point, we’d meandered to the Pomona area, and now safely leveled and squared away, I followed his instructions to descend and turn to a heading of 140. I droned along under the hood for a few minutes, then he had me remove the hood for some pattern work at Corona (KAJO). Whew! Compared to the rest of the exam, this should be relatively easy.

I entered and flew the pattern, carried a little extra speed to account for the gusty winds and did a few touch and go’s and a respectable full-stop landing. We taxied back, took off and flew the  five nm back to Chino for another decent landing, and we were done. It’s an odd feeling: you’re under what feels like intense pressure to perform, and then suddenly it’s over! A wave of relief cascaded over me. That was probably the most intense and nerve-racking 1.3 hours I’ve ever logged!

Back at his office, he had a few comments and suggestions for me, but then shook my hand and signed me off! I paid his fee of $600 (I think it was scheduled to go up as of the first of the year to $700, so I dodged a $100 bullet there…), fueled the plane and flew back to Palomar for a total of 2.8 hours flight time. I told you it was expensive!

I don’t regret the time, effort, and expense of getting the Commercial ticket. I know it improved my skills and made me a better pilot, allows me to offer my aerial photography services, and has led me to meet many fine people in Southern California. I’m truly blessed!

Until next time – fly safe!