I got a chance to go flying yesterday and just wanted to write a quick not about it.
During my run-up, a Piper Cherokee was doing touch and goes (which is no big deal) but he was doing tailwind landings on a short runway (kinda dumb) and flying left closed traffic on a right traffic runway (double dumb, gonna piss off the neighbors). I'm working up the courage to say something when, after he announced a final leg, someone else transmits "You gonna do the next circuit in the right direction?" The Warrior responds "Oh, you using 33?" (he was on 15). The other guy says "yep" and the Warrior transmits "Oh, OK." After a second of indecision, I transmit "by the way, it's left traffic for 33, and right traffic for 15." Chastised, the Warrior apologizes, and I wonder if perhaps he's not based at our airport. There are no Cherokee rentals at Creswell, only at Eugene, and there, only for community college students in the flight program.
I take off, smooth as silk. The sky was broken clouds changing to scattered, so I popped through a big FAA-regs-sized gap between clouds and got on top. It was my first time flying without direct reference to the ground, and the view was fantastic! I tuned into the Eugene VOR to get some nav practice and to know where I was. Saw a commuter jet pass me about 5-10 miles in front, it was cool to watch him pop unto the clouds and disappear. Those guys are fast, he must have been right up near the speed limit.
After a few minutes of this, got Eugene ATIS and called into approach (I wasn't in the system until now).
"Cascade approach (micro-pause as suggested in 'Say again, please?') Cessna 1437 foxtrot ten east Eugene airport at six thousand five hundred, touch and go with Hotel."
"Cessna 1437 Foxtrot, stand by.... 37 Foxtrot, squawk 3201."
"3201 for 37 Foxtrot."
I fiddle with the transponder, turning the numbers the wrong way one turn each time like usual, but get it after a few seconds.
"Cessna 1437 Foxtrot, radar contact 8 miles north east Eugene airport. Say altitude, I'm not getting your mode C."
I stifled the urge to say "altitude" and respond "37 Foxtrot is at six thousand three hundred, descending. Recycling mode C." I flipped the transponder off and on again. Usually, when control says something like that, they mean "Hey dummy, turn on your transponder", but this was an honest to goodness transponder oddity.
"Roger that. Make... modified straight in for runway one six left."
"One six left for 37 Foxtrot" I respond. By now, I've got the carb heat on, throttle chopped, and the plane is descending at about 1,200fpm according to the VSI. Borderline divebombing for the Cessna, but I'm still about 10-15mph below the yellow arc and the air is calm. I aim to avoid some clouds and make a gentle loping arc to line up with 16L, the new runway they just opened.
I go over my approach checklist, make sure I haven't forgotten anything, then take a moment to line up the VOR needle, then continue my approach.
"Cessna 1437 Foxtrot, contact Eugene tower at 124.225, g'day."
"124.225 for 37 Foxtrot, so long!"
I tune in the tower, check my approach (I'm now lining up with the runway, a few miles out).
"Eugene tower, Cessna 1437 Foxtrot at two thousand five hundred." When checking in after a handoff, I usually say my altitude instead of "with you" nowadays, seems more helpful.
"Cessna 1437 Foxtrot, cleared for touch and go runway one six left, then make closed left traffic."
"Clear to land, one six left for 37 foxtrot."
The runway is a lot longer than the one at Creswell, and there aren't the same obstructions (no tall trees at either end) so I decide to practice a fast approach (Class B airport friendly) and a no-flaps landing (for proficiency). Just as I line up the VOR again, Eugene calls me again.
"Cessna 1437 Foxtrot. Ah, on downwind after touch and go or... when able, can you tune in the VOR and tell me if you're getting it?"
Perfect timing.
"Eugene tower, 37 Foxtrot, I was just playing with that. It's working fine, I'm getting it clearly right now."
"Thank you, 37 Foxtrot, appreciate it."
I swoop in over the threshold at about 120mph (old plane, it's MPH, not knots, and that ain't a typo), drop the throttle, crank the trim and yoke back, and float like a mofo in my flare. I touch down about 10-15 mph faster than usual. Not a lot of work to do to clean up the plane other than kill the carb heat and keep weight off the nose to avoid the shimmy, then I crank the power and begin accelerating.
Up ahead, a bird is sitting on the runway. About a second too late, he noticed me and takes off, and I had a close encounter. This bird misses the prop on the right side by maybe 6", close enough that if he had been on the centerline of the plane, it would have struck. This bird comes so close up over the top that I can see his down feathers as he frantically flaps, and I listen for (but don't hear) a thump. This guy must have been scraping the top of the wing with his feet, he was that close.
I lift off and head upwind and tell Tower that I'm heading back to my airport instead of staying in the pattern.
"Cessna 1437 Foxtrot, would you like flight following back to Creswell?"
This is an unusual offer, Eugene usually dumps me like a a trash barge off Staten Island at 3:00AM, so I'm guessing I'm on their good side for the VOR help.
"Thanks, but I'll be OK on my own, 37 Foxtrot. So long."
"OK, but before you switch frequency, I've got a traffic advisory for you...looks like 5 miles out from Creswell airport, heading there. Keep your eyes open. Frequency change approved."
By now I KNOW I'm on their good side, because they're doing me quite a nice favor with that advisory. I thank her, but delay switching frequencies for a few minutes.
A moment later, a voice I recognize as the Warrior doing the wrong way touch & goes with a bad pattern direction transmits. "Ah... Eugene Tower, Warrior 123 papa hotel with you, um, about 5 miles out, to make let traffic... for one six left for landing... with you on 124.225.." and some other noises I can't quite get. I have to chuckle, because I know he came in from Approach, but the 20-30 seconds he spends on his call must be excruciating for the tower. No worries, I used to be there, and I know he'll learn.
After an uneventful landing, I park the plane and head in to do paperwork. After a minute, I remember my close encounter and jog out to check the plane. No blood, no feathers, no dent. Either this bird missed me or didn't leave a mark.
$63 later, I'm done for the day, and like usual, looking to the sky for my next fix flying....