Earning my PPL in Florida

The beginning was already super! In Frankfurt with -6º C first the airplane was defrosted and the runway was vacated by untiring snowploughs. After nine hours flying time landing in Orlando with 28º C. The rental car agency gave me an convertible mini jeep instead of the ordered small car! In new Smyrna Beach waited a motel room with small kitchen, only a few steps from the airfield, on which I wanted to get my PPL-A.

My Medical, the American health certificate already acquired in Germany, must be rewritten on "student pilot certificate". After some telephone calls the German flight instructor, who came along with me to Florida finds Kate, who can complete that. She lives in Spruce Creek, a "Fly in Community ", and we fly those few miles with the school airplane, a Cessna 152. We land on the private Runway and roll on the taxiway passing magnificent mansions, before which the most beautiful aircrafts up to the King Air are parked. Kate is waiting already before her hangar, in which beside the car, a two-seat machine and a large sailboat still would be space enough for three more planes. Her living room is quite created with aeronautical accessories. It turns out that she should be at the end of the month also my Examiner. Will I accomplish it in such a short time, without any previous knowledge and with an age of almost fifty years? In Germany I have done only the written exam.  

The first flying lesson on the non-controlled airport of New Smyrna Beach gives few cause for hope. Taxiing works fine, but the traffic pattern was already too much. How am I to note so many handles? The third flight day brings the absolute depression. My teacher demonstrates Stalls and Steep turns (complete circle with 60°inclination), my stomach feels awful and I mean hopefully that nevertheless in the check one does not require. My hope is disappointed! After the landing, I just want to thank God that we are on the ground again, but my instructor want me to do three more takeoff and landings. Dearest I would like to go home.  

The next flight we have fog, quite frequently on the Florida coast. We cannot fly and I begin already to regret it. The next flight lessons bring then better luck. Finally I have the feeling that the Cessna is mine, I keep course without shaking the plane too much and the sixth day I take off without assistance. The landing is still catastrophic. The first week ends with 9.5 flying hours and 18 landings including a Low Approach over the space shuttle runway of the nearby Kennedy Space Center.

The next days we fly only traffic pattern, until the rectangle sits as accurately as possible and the landing becomes ever better. After further 80 landings in 7 days I did not accomplish it yet to put the plane without assistance safe on the ground. I despaired completely. Am I to give up flying? Am I unable? The first two weeks passed, already 32 flying hours and still far from the solo flight. Time and cash seem to flow ever faster, without any success.  

By coincidence I went in the airport Daytona Beach International, C-Airspace, into the wrong office and found myself in Spectrum Aviation, the flight school of Jim. This is much more the flight school of my dreams, with students, class rooms and several instructors. After internal fights and a long discussion with my flight instructor, who shows up very cooperatively, I change to the young team. Greg will be my personal Instructor, the Austrian Moni will teach me ground school. Only two more weeks, will I get my licence in this short time? The Cessna 150 flies a little bit different, the radio Communication with Clearence Delivery, Ground control, Tower and Departure is complex and new. I have also to adjust to the new instructor. Greg sets up a plan, which he intends aeronautically, Moni writes a list of the FAR-Regulations, which I have to learn. No more free minute will remain.  

After 22 hours in the new school, where I practically had to start from the beginning and mainly had to train stalls up to vomiting, then finally the desired solo flight. A terrific feeling. First I had even to fight for the Endorsement, had already a long time the feeling to be able to do the landing alone, but Greg did not believe me capable of. When he however suddenly snatched his indispensable thermal can with coffee and stepped out of the plane, I was completely surprised. In that moment I had not expected it. Am I to have fear? No, I did the last landings nevertheless also without his assistance. And full of energy I taxi into a wonderfully orange coloured evening sky. It was unbelievably beautiful. If one accomplished that, one can never give up flying any more. If it becomes conscious that one controls the machine quite alone. In a high feeling I turn my traffic pattern and show Greg three super gentle landings.  

But since a few days it became clear already that I will not get my PPL in this short time. Only few days before I fly back home, we can just do the dual cross countries and the night flight. And there comes back the wonderful feeling of flying, the fun with I, which was lost in the first frustrating time. To open a flight plan is fun, the Weather Briefer of the Flight Service Station in Gainesville is very helpful, and navigation with Pilotage and Dead-Reckoning does not give me big problems as an old Sahara Traveller. Even the use of ADF and VOR, which in theory seems difficult, is quite simple in practice. But the highlight is the night flight! Twice we had to cancel because of bad weather, but then we were rewarded by a asterisk-clear night, very romantic.  

The next day I have to go back to Germany. The months at home should actually be filled out with the study of Flighttraining Handbook and private and oral Exam Guide, but the everyday life does not leave time. So I was hardly better prepared, when I landed again in May in Daytona Beach International. Only three months had passed, but my super flight school, in which it really made fun, had completely changed. The Chief Instructor had gone to an airline, Jesse as back-up was really horrible. He tried to make up for its missing body size by energetic commands. Dean gave theory instruction, however few days later fell with its Instructor check through (rightfully!). And the nice Moni, resting pole of the school, was not present. Only Greg, my Instructor, was fortunately unchanged.  

That first flight was super, I had nothing forgotten, the landing softly, the Radio Communication without problems, it was fun. It took eight flying hours, until I was so far that I could go on solo Cross Country. First from Daytona south to Melbourne, Sanford and back, and then to the north to Savannah in Georgia. A raising feeling. I fly directly over the shore line. For the first time I am conscious that here I am really alone, here there is nobody to assist me. The isolation of the desert is not so absolutely, even far away of each civilization there are some people. But here I am dependent on myself. And to accomplish it, makes indescribably happy.  

The problems begin only thereafter. Now again some dual hours, a conversion after these flights alone. Greg corrected again and again, has always something to complain, intervenes. Hardly still the " Good job " of the first hours. He required always more, wants even more perfect stalls, still more accurate Steep Turns. I am long waiting for my checkride, but he hesitates. After groundschool in the flightschool became so miserable, I completed the private oral Exam Guide with another student and feel prepared. Again a small fight with Greg and we agree on next week Wednesday as the large day. Nevertheless then goes everything wrong. Friday my instructor doesn’t have time, Saturday and Sunday he must go to the CFI Refresher Course. Three days without Instructor and the Soft and Short Field Landings are not yet good enough.  

I urgently need a teacher, who checks my solo training. Saturday John flies with me. He is not content, indicates other Approach Speeds, makes the Final completely different. I train over. Monday then again Greg and he cries: " what are you doing there?" After this flight there is a longer dispute between the teachers and I try again to follow Greg’s orders. Tuesday, the day before the scheduled check ride, on which Greg must give me the endorsement, then the fiasco! We discuss violently about my Short Field landing, Greg intervenes, the Cessna touch the ground rough, lift off again, Greg cries: Go Around, I take back all Flaps (at minimum speed), he cries, do you want you us to kill, but we fly. Back in Daytona he refuses the Endorsement, I tell him I’ll then leave the school, the controversy is there. I require the bill, want never again fly an airplane.

Out of the door, into the next flight school, Phil Air Flight Center (now Falcon Flight Center). Howling and trembling I tell the whole story, they calm me down, no problem, we will help you. The same day we do a check flight. I demonstrate stalls, steep turn, slow flight, the instructor is happy. Mary, a 21-year old student of the Embry Riddle Aeronautical University, becomes my new instructor. We practice short and softly field landings and it fold on first attempt. Three days later check flight with the Chief Instructor, he testifies that I am a safe pilot. And on the next day, two days before the departure to Germany I have the desired PPL-A in my hands, after 10 weeks of instruction with 130 flight hours, not completely like the optimistic folders of the US schools had promised.