So, I putted down to Brown on a Friday afternoon, for to once again break the surly bonds of earth and cheat death, and so on. In a 65-HP “conventional” gear Champ. Such as which 62-year old airframe you have previously seen photographic evidence of.
Your man Eamonn was there, good man himself, a grandson of Ireland at 6′ 5″ (at least), slipping on a pair of low-cut Chuck Taylor’s, if only for the maneuverability that are in them. Hizzoner’s ankle-to-ground interconnect being of such luxurious abundance as to prohibit wearing more formal gear, whilst in the trunk. Getting all in the way, like.
The assiduous reader will recall that our last effort to go flying was undone by a faulty left magneto. Which critical piece of gear, we were reliably informed, had been put to right, the machine successfully flown in test, and everything required in order for a guy who spent 4,000+ hours with his feet mostly on deck to learn the art and science of taildragging aviation.
After a very abbreviated brief, we were out of parking, hand-propping the machine to life and taxiing down for an intersection take-off. Something in me pondered the runway length in front of us to the degree that I was forced to ask, “How much runway is that, anyway?”
Oh, two thousand feet, he said. I’m pretty sure. Plenty enough to get us airborne.
It wasn’t like we had long field arresting gear at the departure end, nor a tailhook if it came to it. The machine unsticks at 60 MPH in any case. I drove faster getting to the airport. Off you go.
Stick back the whole while when taxiing, just to keep the tail honest. Run-ups at the hold short revealed that the mags were working well within specs. On the right runway, and devil take the hindmost. There’s little enough drama with the spinner at high RPM. Right rudder of course, for to keep her tracking. When the tail wants to go flying you ease the back stick out. At a time and place of its own choosing the airplane comes unstuck, and suddenly you’re flying. Never a need to rotate to the flyaway attitude. It seems so unnatural.
We stayed in the pattern this time, so it was a turn to downwind for a left closed pattern. In up and away flight, there’s nothing to it. There’s little to do turning to final, apart from kicking left rudder in. There’s not much to it rounding out to land. It’s when the wheels touch down that things start to get interesting.
I’ve spent several thousand hours in airplanes that muscle through the insubstantial air on brute force alone. Airplanes that, for the most part, land gratefully, exhausted. Perfectly satisfied to head back to the barn without complaint. The Aeronca Champ forms no part of that database. Docile as a a lamb when flying around, although she’ll beg a bit of rudder to keep the ball between the stripes. Once you plunk her down though, she asks you what you’re made of. Insistently. You cannot relax an instant until you’ve cleared the runway. And then only maybe.
A couple of three-point landings to warm up, the first of which was nothing to brag on. I carried a bit more speed through the roundout since last week’s efforts led me to believe that at max gross weight, the flare to land less broke the rate of descent than to converted nose down to nose up with little change in rate-of-descent. We landed a little firm, bounced into the air and held the stick back in our laps for the second landing. And that’s when it got interesting. Like it wasn’t already.
We fell back to earth, landing softly and searching equilibrium. Which tried ever so hard to let the back end go first. Got her mindful of her duty at last, slowed down to a crawl and hit the throttle again. Take-off’s are easy.
I found that my legs were shaking on the upwind leg. I haven’t felt that in a while. A long while. I put it down to the adrenaline.
The second and third three point landings were pretty smooth, if I must say so myself. So it was off to wheel landings.
The first of which was an abortion. It’s hard for an instructor to talk a student through maneuvers which require action more quickly than the voice can convey, and the mind process. Eamonn tried it anyway. It ended up being a three point after all, the options being to bail out with a go-around, or plant the stick in our laps and hope for the best. We chose the latter, but even with the tail on deck, you’re nothing like done flying the airplane. It’s a veritable soft shoe on the rudder pedals to keep her honest.
The second wheel landing was better, at first. Flew a flat, power-on approach and placed the stick about an inch forward of neutral as the mains touched down. Things were going fine until I eased power to idle, at which point the tail, lacking airflow from the engine, wanted to fall back to earth. No sense fighting it, said I, and hauled back on the controls. Causing us to go airborne again, briefly. This is really hard, I remember thinking. Harder that I would have thought. All the rules had changed, and I was suddenly a nugget again.
The third wheel landing was the best of all. Held the nose down for as long as made sense. Let the tail sag down to the runway when it seemed ready. Had a jolly three to four seconds while I fought to keep her tracking straight – the slower you go, the more rudder required, the longer it takes for opposite rudder to take effect. Next time I’ll disregard the centerline and just hold what I’ve got, so long as we’re tracking straight ahead with runway remaining. Beats s-turning across the centerline all hollow.
Got her slow at last, nearly to a stop and said, “We’re on the go,” adding full power. At which point the engine quit. Stopped, like.
Entirely.
Called the tower controller, told him we’d be a moment. Eamonn got out to turn the prop and we got her fired up again, for to taxi back to parking. Asked your man, “So. Do you know anyone with a Citabria?”
Because, challenged as I am? I think I’m done flying a certain 1947 Aeronca Champ.
Not a big deal to lose the engine on a touch-and-go. Might have made things sporty on a go-around.
This sort of thing can make a man ret ponderful.
Engine out…touch and go…short field.
Makes one of those new planes look mighty attractive. Lost one on final once and losing the “fan” does make a pilot sweat.
Whoa, that’s exciting. I guess that was the best place it could happen, unless maybe it was the ramp. Glad it wasn’t on the climb-out to cross wind.
Thanks for the flight log. I agree it may just be time to find a plane younger than yourself. I’m a Citabria fan myself.
***Asked your man, “So. Do you know anyone with a Citabria?”***
NOW, you are talking! BTW, I told you it would get ugly when you started wheel landing!
I can’t wait to do it myself. Keep it up Lex, and thanks again for the great blog!!!1!
Joe,
How did you quote him that way? I just copied and pasted with some *** thrown in there.
*sigh*
Captain Lex has some HTML tips on the top menu bar. I just copy and paste the set of brackets that say blockquote and then replace the and with the text.
Citabria all the way.
Thanks so much Joe!
Indeed.
In the Service, I suppose you learn to fly what they tell you to fly (happily, in your case, it was thoroughbreds all the way!!!), but I wonder:
Now that you can sort of “pick and choose” of all the beasties out there, if you will find a particular flavor appealing? Or, conversely, unappealing?
It sounds like you might have found the milk from the cows grazing in the wild onion, instead of the clover.
Pilots to airplanes as marksmen to rifles, sometimes you find a shooting iron that just doesn’t want to settle down, and has absolutely no respect for your shooting skills!
Well done taming the critter, however, and keeping the the equality between number of take offs and number of landings!
Nugget, huh? Your narrative took me back, too, Lex. VT-1 all over again; thank goodness they were using T-34′s by then.
I’m not “that” old!
The rot set in with paved runways and tailwheels. On a grass field, a tailskid has enough drag to keep the front of the airplaned pointing in the direction in which it’s moving.
Sgt B- your comparison of airframes to firearms makes sense to me, esp. since I have no flying experience but lots of shooting time!
Lex- One of the things I appreciate about your posts is that you aren’t afraid to admit when you (occasionally) screw up and/or are less talented aeronautically than you’d hoped to be. Makes you more human, like. Someone the rest of us nobbits can relate to. Thanks.
Yeah sounds like time to get another airplane…
I’ad hazard a guess that, relatively long time spent at idle, plugs fairly fouled or something and when called to duty were found wanting. Used to briefly surge the throttle on approach to “clear the engine” burning off the lead deposits so prome to accumulation at the less than optimal temperatures generated in the cylinders at throttle settings below cruise.
A true Citabria will have at least 115 hp on the nose the better to pull you around and that will make that nice churning sound just before engine start of an electrical starter as well.
Come landing time all the now familiar nuances will be present with, perhaps, the added finesse of accounting for a landing gear assembly formed from spring steel and lacking the forgiviveness of an oil0 air oleo strut assembly to absorb hamfisted induced greetings between wheel and runway.
I had to chuckle at your misfortunes having spent so many hours years ago mastering the beast. But seems hardly fair in doing as you will never get to return the favor enjoying my indoctrination into the aircraft you have flown so long with such aplomb.
But it sounds like, having fairly experienced almost all the humiliation a Champ can dish out, you’ve almost got it down and soon will be wondering what the fuss was all about.
Please, forgive me for what I am about to confess.
I simply cannot help enjoying the feeling, just a little tiny bit, mind you, that I can do something in an airplane that an accomplished F-18 pilot, a steed of the ilk clearly unattainable to me in this life and most likely the next as well, can’t do. Well, can’t do yet anyway.
I suppose this makes me a rotten person, but there it is, on the table honestly and forthrightly, for all to judge.
SCORE! to daveg…I accept your confession. I know lex will be humble enough not to list the things he hasn’t already mentioned, or not relink to, all those things he can do in an FA-18 you can’t do in your tail dragger…like haul 2000lbs of dead weight on a hardpoint under the wing, or maybe multiples…:)
A little too early in taildragger training to conclude anything, I’d like to gently suggest. I can, without trying, think of 5 accidents in a taildragger that occurred on takeoff, and that’s not counting warbird pilots with too ,much horsepower, torque and p-factor and too little experience. Ask you instructor about crow-hopping, for example.
A tip for wheel landings. My reaction time seems to be just a bit slower than what a smooth wheel landing requires. When the wheels touch the nerves fire, but the touch is too late and then too soon. My solution is to roll in just a touch of nose down trim. When the wheels touch no reaction except to relax is required, except to keep the wing on the crosswind side down. She’ll stick herself to the ground. Also helps make thing more manageable if you need to go-around which always always is a better option than trying to beat the beast into submission on a botched landing. But do it sooner than later, otherwise all you do by adding power is add energy to the crash.
Lex,
Those Stromberg Carburators have a tendency to do that with really cold temps. No fuel pump, gravity fed, so when you jam it to full throttle, especially with temps below 32 F will superlean the mixture and the prop, she stops turning. Continental had a piece come out on that in either the late 50s or early 60s. Happened to me a couple of times, once on roll out and once back taxiing the runway. Two pointers with the A65 with Stromberg carb, in cooler air: keep the carb heat on and take three seconds to go from idle to full throttle. Once the tac hits 2000 rpm I shut the carb heat off. In the air, I also keep the pattern tight this time of year as it is easier to slip off the altitude on final rather than wish I had some. Also once at cruise altitude I don’t move the throttle below 2000 rpm.
Thirties technology and all that.
Best,
geo6
Agreed, unless you happen to get lucky and have access to a very early Citabria that still has the oleo strut gear, plus the added bonus of 115-150 horses and an electrical system. ’65-’67, I think before they went to spring steel.
If I were buying a Champ, it would be one with an electrical system and a starter. Lex knows why, now.
I think GEO6 has it right on the Stromberg-Carlson carburetor characteristics being the cause of the shutdown. In my youth spent a lot of quality time on a Farmall Model A tractor equipped with the same brand carburetor, lacking only the mixture control. Fairly easy to stall the engine by rapidly applying full throttle.
Also noted the same characteristic with my early motorcycles, the ones with the throttle cable connected directly to the carburetor slide. Nowadays vacuum-operated carb slides and electronic fuel injection have done away the the consequences of jerking the throttle open.
H.S. Normal/
Always get a kick out of your nom de plume–My Father graduated from H.S. in Normal, Illinois.
BTW, no mixture control on the Stromberg either- helps with the cooling and makes anything with the A-65 smoke like an old F-4 above 7000 ft.
Have a look at this article (particularly the seventh paragraph) for the level of control you should aspire to when handling taildraggers
Concur with GEO6 about carb ice. Following I-8 East to an airshow at Casa Grande, ducking under the usual clouds near Alpine, our PA-12 started running rough at cruise. OAT about 45, obvious moisture given the clouds. Herself, PIC, applied carb heat, as expected, but it worse for longer than we would have cared. “If it doesn’t clear up real soon I’m putting it on the highway.” My thoughts exactly. But it did clear up, and her reaction was precisely the same as yours. “That was interesting.”
Oops, that was supposed to read “Herself, PIC, applied carb heat, and it got much rougher as expected, worse for longer than we would have cared.”