Recent- Visit with Solar Impulse
Thursday, April 25th, 2013, by amm
- The Hunt for Pan-STARRS
Saturday, April 6th, 2013, by amm
- CRM through Planning
Monday, March 4th, 2013, by amm
- The Quilt Test Drive (Test Sleep?)
Tuesday, February 12th, 2013, by amm
- Quilt’s Here!
Monday, February 4th, 2013, by amm
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Okay, that’s not quite fair: it was, effectively, almost three times around the patch.
I went out for some pattern work today. The winds were wonderfully squirrelly: 090° variable 280° at 8 gusting 15, sums it up over the course of the hour and a half. For most of the first, oh, forty minutes or so, it was mostly from the right, ranging from a 20° crosswind to a 90° crosswind, typically about 10 knots gusting 15, with an occasional gust up around 300′ or so seeming to hit 25 knots and a not-quite-predictable big sink on about half-mile final. A good workout: feet stayed busy, both hands stayed busy.
On trip around the pattern was particularly memorable. As I started my takeoff roll on runway 13, I heard tower calling a twin (type and tail number elided, to protect the guilty); tower got no response. During my turn from crosswind to downwind, I heard the twin pilot call, inbound on the GPS31; tower replied with instructions to “circle runway 13, circle north of the field.” The twin’s pilot read that back, then asking if he should fly right traffic, to which tower replied, “Circle north of the airport.” The twin’s pilot acknowledged.
The approach plate has a note, “Circling not authorized southwest of Rwy 13-31.”
Tower then called the twin, “Twin Barnburner 6IO, I show you at 200′; climb to pattern altitude.” The twin’s pilot did not reply. Having completed that previous circuit’s landing, I was taxiing back to runway 13 for another, and heard the tower, “Twin Barnburner 6IO, cancel circling restriction”; the twin pilot acknowledged. As I entered the runway 13 runup area, I saw the twin on right downwind, south (i.e., southwest) of the field, contrary to instructions and to the approach plate’s restriction.
And this was just the beginning!
Beginning my downwind, tower gave a wind check, unprompted, calling the winds 290° at 12, and then instructing me to turn base at the auto bridge (the Dumbarton auto bridge, a good mile and a half beyond where I would usually turn base). About midfield, I noticed the twin completing his approach and beginning his rollout; tower asked the twin pilot if he had a tailwind on final, to which the pilot replied that “it felt like it, yes.” I figured we were about to turn the airport around, and the tower’s request for me to continue my downwind to the bridge made more sense.
“Mooney 2FR, continue to the auto bridge, fly to KGO, enter a 45 for right downwind runway 31. I acknowledged and complied.
The fun wasn’t over.
I joined the right downwind, from the 45, lowered the landing gear abeam midfield, reduced power and began descending abeam the numbers, and turned right base at the appropriate time. Tower called, “Mooney 2FR, make a left 270, enter left downwind runway 13, winds now 150° at 11.” I began a climbing left turn, acknowledged, and hoped they wouldn’t have to turn the airport around a third time before I landed!
As I rolled out and left runway 13, after an uneventful landing (albeit with still-squirrelly winds!), tower instructed me to taxi back runway 13 for left closed traffic, adding, “Thanks for your patience.” I acknowledged, told them it was no problem, and complimented the controller on the crew’s handling of having turned the airport around twice in such a short time.
The rest of my proficiency work, though certainly worthwhile—nine more landings (three of them simulated dead-stick, with an exciting cross-wind soft field takeoff and a self-initiated go-around thrown in)—was far less interesting and more mundane.
Thanks to our local alumni club, I got a chance to get a bit of a tour of the Solar Impulse, the solar electric airplane that, among other flights, made a 26+ hour flight using no consumable fuel (July 7, 2010). The airplane’s electric motors and electronics are powered by solar cells; these cells generate enough electricity, even while the airplane is climbing, not only to power the motors but also to charge the batteries. The typical long-duration flight profile is to climb into the high 20s (e.g., FL280, 28,000′), fly at that altitude until dark, then drastically reduce power to reach the minimum drag regime and slow drift down. The batteries’ power will then last overnight until the solar cells resume generating enough electricity.
The airplane, conceived, designed, and built in Switzerland, has a wingspan nearly identical to that of a 747, yet weighs about 1% (yes, one percent) what a 747 weighs (both specs at maximum weight), or just a little less than a Chevy Volt.
It’s a remarkable airplane, with an inspiring mission: demonstrate that, though certainly not ready for regular passenger service, solar power is viable for powering an airplane. Bertrand Picard and André Borschberg, the teams founders, have as a goal to inspire others and provide an innovative, path-finding realization of a vision of sustainability.
The Solar Impulse has been at NASA’s Ames Research Center for the past few weeks, preparing for their flight across the U.S., housed in one of Moffett Field’s blimp hangars (Hangar 2). They had an open house over the weekend; the biggest advantages of our open house were smaller audience size (about 120, vs. the open house’s 250 at a time), and a chance not only to ask questions of the team, but also to hear Picard and Borschberg speak and ask them questions. It was a wonderful evening.
According to Picard and Borschberg, also pilots, Solar Impulse is a very interesting airplane to fly. Its extremely long and high aspect ratio wing, very, very low wing loading, and underslung pilot’s gondola, tend to have the airplane wallow in almost any turbulence at all. According to Picard, the flying, though requiring all the skill a very experienced pilot has (including that of a retired NASA chief test pilot, who served as the team’s test pilot), also requires unlearning many of the responses pilots learn to attitude excursions. All three pilots had difficulties learning to land the airplane, because of the wallowing and the very slow responses to control inputs, and would have crashed the airplane many times were it not for an excellent simulator.
The plans are to fly HB-SIA, the current plane, across the U.S, making stops in Phoenix, Dallas, St. Louis, D.C., and New York. The mission for HB-SIB, the successor, will be the flight around the world (not non-stop: longest legs will be five days). Both -SIA and -SIB are single-pilot airplanes, which is one of the main reasons for the leg length limit. -SIA has no autopilot at all; -SIB will have the equivalent of a tiller tender to allow the pilot to grab cat naps.
Not only was the Solar Impulse team given permission to land at JFK, the JFK staff all-but insisted that they do! (The team asked JFK how close they could come to Manhattan airspace, figuring it would be 20-50 miles. JFK staff had other ideas!)
-SIA took a photo op flight over the Golden Gate Bridge; some beautiful pictures are available on their Web site (see above). For my own pictures (handheld DSLR [Nikon D7000, on auto, manual focus, built-in flash in subdued indoor hangar lighting. Tamron 18-270 lens), see below; click on a thumbnail to view a larger version of the image.
 Sunset while awaiting the appearance of Comet PAN-STARRS. (The comet never came out from behind the low clouds.) I was hoping to get a glimpse of Comet Pan-STARRS during its trip through the inner solar system. The quest took us to Skyline Drive above Windy Hill Nature Preserve. Across the street from the preserve is a large turn-out, affording a fine view to the west and the setting sun. Alas, this beautiful sunset meant the comet was a no-show, but we got a nice consolation prize.
Each day, the comet emerged further from the sun’s glare, but as its distance from the sun increased, it dimmed. It was a race between the comet and the clouds: would the clouds that gave is this absolutely lovely sunset dissipate before the comet dimmed beyond naked eye visibility? I did not want to place a bet (especially since I’m not typically much of a betting man—but, that’s a different story).
 Sunset on Tuesday. Nice eye candy, no comet. A couple days later, a return trip garnered another sunset photo, but, alas, no glimpse of a comet. I heard reports of very brief sightings between cloud layers on Monday, when I was unable to head up, but only brief.
Undaunted (okay, only slightly daunted), I returned on Wednesday for another attempt. I arrived well before sunset: early enough, in fact, that I took a couple miles’ hike. It felt good, and the preserve has some wonderful hiking. It looked like there might have been a bit of a sunset, but it was brief and I was still on the trail when the color faded. But, I wasn’t there for the color that evening.
The sky was, in fact, pretty clear. There was the low stratus deck out to sea, but little in the way of mid- or high-level cloud cover. I had high hopes.
This time, I was rewarded!
I shot the two images in the opposite order from what you see, about eight minutes apart (8:05pm for the first, 8:13pm for the second). For the photo-techies among us, I took the image with the waxing crescent moon at f6.3 with a 3 second exposure, ISO-800 setting, 112 mm focal length (35 mm equivalent). I used an ISO of 200 for the second, again at f6.3, 200 mm focal length, 13 second exposure (explaining the elongated head on Pan-STARRS).
 Comet Pan-STARRS and the waxing crescent moon. Incidentally, in the image with the crescent moon, the comet is the faint, well, smudge in the lower-right. (If you click on any of the images, you’ll wind up with a full-resolution version of it.)
As to the “three dot clouds,” the comet was, indeed, visible to the unaided eye. The first person to spot it, though, found it through binoculars. He let one of his pre-teen daughters look, and she was then able to find it without the binoculars. She used these clouds as a reference point in describing to us where to find it.
I thought it was a perfect description.
It was a wonderful ending to a great evening: a pleasant drive, a fabulous hike, and a crescent moon to announce Pesach‘s approach, and Pan-STARRS. I drove down the mountain a happy guy.
 Comet Pan-STARRS above the “three dot clouds.” (All pictures, both those in this blog post and those to which this blog post has links are copyright © 2013, Alan M. Marcum. All rights reserved. Permission to re-use must be secured from copyright holder.)
We talk a lot about CRM in aviation circles: cockpit resource management, crew resource management, something along those lines.
I’m planning a flight from home base (SF Bay Area) to Arcata (northern California), IFR. I have a pretty good sense of the typical routing I get from home heading northeast through southeast, but wasn’t quite sure what to expect when heading to KACV. I wondered if NorCal TRACON would give me the usual departure routing, over Sunol, or if I should expect to head over to Woodside.
Why does it matter? After all, I’m only planning, not yet ready to launch (much less even airborne!).
I want to know what to expect. It allows me to estimate my flight time better, to have the navigation gear programmed in advance, and to be more mentally ready. Ultimately, being able to plan ahead reduces my in-flight workload, allowing me to devote more attention to the flying per se and less to things like programming the navigation gear.
(For the pilots reading: the answer, especially assuming that NorCal is using the “West” Plan [i.e., KSFO is landing to the west, rather than the southeast], is to expect what I consider to be all-but the SUNOL1 departure, is to expect radar vectors SUNOL, then as filed.)
Even though ATC might throw a curveball, or even a knuckler, at me, it’s nice to know what to expect.
Saturday evening was dry and cold, much like the evening of my previous quilt test (described here). In fact, temperatures were, if anything, a touch colder for this test.
The test included both the new quilt and a new sleeping pad. A friend had mentioned a pretty nice sale an a particular inflatable sleeping pad, one that weighed a full pound less than my then-current pad (an original Therm-a-Rest, about thirty years old, though still in great shape). The new pad is a high-tech air mattress, rather than a self-inflating pad, and I wondered about the differences.
The punch line: wow, a lot to learn about sleeping under a backpacking quilt! It works for me, though.
Like any piece of versatile gear, there are many ways to use a backpacking quilt. There’s the zipper at the foot, extending up about 12″ or so: zip it up, or leave it flat. There’s a drawstring at the foot: pull it closed, partially closed, or leave it open? There are clips for straps (the straps come with the quilt) along each of the side edges: leave the quilt flat, or tuck the edges in beneath me or beneath the sleeping pad, use the straps around me, or use the straps around the underside of the pad?
Rolling over wrong under the quilt on a chill night is a, well, refreshing experience. Into my nice, toasty cocoon came this dollop of cold air. Okay, time to tuck the side back in beneath me (I had chosen to forgo the straps, and to tuck the quilt beneath me rather than the pad) and let the cocoon re-warm.
What did I learn?
First, the quilt’s about as warm as I expected.
Second, on warm nights, I’ll keep the quilt flat, or perhaps zip the foot. On cold nights, though, I’ll try using the straps, routing them behind the sleeping pad.
Third, the new sleeping pad leaves me a lot further off the ground than my old pad. This means I have to do slightly different things for a pillow (a thicker pillow).
Fourth, I definitely like the quilt, but the jury’s still out on the new pad.
Just how much weight am I saving with the quilt over a comparable bag? Call the quilt 26 ounces trail weight (including straps and stuff sack), a touch more (an ounce, maybe) than my old bag with a nominal men’s rating of 30°F and women’s rating of 40°F. It seems like, for those bags that have a published women’s rating separate from men’s (or unisex), that the women’s rating reflects my comfort range these days. My quilt has a nominal 10°F rating; assuming that the 10°F spread between men’s and women’s comfort ranges is representative, that would give my quilt about a 20°F comfort rating, and that feels about right: I was dressed lightly, the temperatures were below 30°F, and I was cozy. That puts the quilt on par for warmth with ultralight bags in the 25-30 ounce range (if I want to spend $540, over twice what my quilt cost!). Net: I saved a bunch of money, or I saved somewhere between no weight (the 25 ounces is not trail weight) and 4-12 ounces (the upper end of the range for bags that are more conventional, but still deemed light for their warmth).
Next up: gotta get out backpacking with the new kit!
 Enlightened Equipment Quilt My backpacking quilt arrived today (backpacking quilt? what quilt? see my previous blog entry). The picture at left shows it with its supplied stuff sack. (Not shown: the removable back straps and the storage sack.) My kitchen scale (not the world’s most accurate piece of measuring equipment) shows 24 ounces for the quilt itself, plus about ¾ ounce for the stuff sack (and about 1 ¼ ounces for the straps).
Next step: test-sleep the quilt, on a convenient (and, I hope, cool but dry) night!
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