X-Virus-Scanned: clean according to Sophos on Logan.com Return-Path: Sender: To: lml@lancaironline.net Date: Sun, 19 Dec 2010 19:09:33 -0500 Message-ID: X-Original-Return-Path: Received: from nschwmtas02p.mx.bigpond.com ([61.9.189.140] verified) by logan.com (CommuniGate Pro SMTP 5.3.11) with ESMTP id 4645768 for lml@lancaironline.net; Fri, 17 Dec 2010 21:35:28 -0500 Received-SPF: pass receiver=logan.com; client-ip=61.9.189.140; envelope-from=frederickmoreno@bigpond.com Received: from nschwotgx02p.mx.bigpond.com ([121.220.130.72]) by nschwmtas02p.mx.bigpond.com with ESMTP id <20101218023449.KYMZ25233.nschwmtas02p.mx.bigpond.com@nschwotgx02p.mx.bigpond.com> for ; Sat, 18 Dec 2010 02:34:49 +0000 Received: from Razzle ([121.220.130.72]) by nschwotgx02p.mx.bigpond.com with ESMTP id <20101218023445.POZW13035.nschwotgx02p.mx.bigpond.com@Razzle> for ; Sat, 18 Dec 2010 02:34:45 +0000 MIME-Version: 1.0 X-Original-Message-Id: <4D0C1DB6.00007F.03076@RAZZLE> X-Original-Date: Sat, 18 Dec 2010 10:34:30 +0800 Content-Type: Multipart/Alternative; charset="us-ascii"; boundary="------------Boundary-00=_I5RL8QL8WCW000000000" X-Mailer: IncrediMail (6244788) From: "Frederick Moreno" X-FID: FLAVOR00-NONE-0000-0000-000000000000 X-Priority: 3 X-Original-To: "Lancair Mail (lml@lancaironline.net)" Subject: Aussie flight rules X-Authentication-Info: Submitted using SMTP AUTH LOGIN at nschwotgx02p.mx.bigpond.com from [121.220.130.72] using ID frederickmoreno@bigpond.com at Sat, 18 Dec 2010 02:34:45 +0000 X-RPD-ScanID: Class unknown; VirusThreatLevel unknown, RefID str=0001.0A150205.4D0C1DC9.0039,ss=1,fgs=0 X-SIH-MSG-ID: qR4xGdP8TFa2kTAvmTy2alorgFm6/gF5uMhSBI0wt0lHEVbCu8DAQcijbaJCwZDh1i4vZ16VSjRzc63sTY/TuNq0K7hYSrLZ5vg2 --------------Boundary-00=_I5RL8QL8WCW000000000 Content-Type: Text/Plain; charset="us-ascii" Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable Not sure if this has been posted before. They do things a bit differentl= y in Outback Australia. Fred=0D =0D Mate,=0D I am writing to you because I need your help to get me bloody pilot's licence back. You keep telling me you got all the right contacts. Well no= w's your chance to make something happen for me because, mate, I'm bloody desperate But first, I'd better tell you what happened during my last fli= ght review with the CASA Examiner.=0D =0D On the phone, Ron (that's the CASA man), seemed a reasonable sort of a bl= oke He politely reminded me of the need to do a flight review every two year= s. He even offered to drive out, have a look over my property and let me operate from my own strip. Naturally I agreed to that.=0D =0D Anyway, Ron turned up last Wednesday. First up, he said he was a bit surprised to see the plane on a small strip outside my homestead, because the "ALA" (Authorized Landing Area), is about a mile away. I=0D explained that because this strip was so close to the homestead, it was m= ore convenient than the "ALA," and despite the power lines crossing about mid= way down the strip, it's really not a problem to land and take-off, because a= t the halfway point down the strip you're usually still on the ground.=0D =0D For some reason Ron, seemed nervous. So, although I had done the pre-flig= ht inspection only four days earlier, I decided to do it all over again. Because he was watching me carefully, I walked around the plane three tim= es instead of my usual two..=0D =0D My effort was rewarded because the colour finally returned to Ron's cheek= s. In fact, they went a bright red. In view of Ron's obviously better mood, = I told him I was going to combine the test flight with some farm work, as I had to deliver three "poddy calves" from the home paddock to the main her= d. After a bit of a chase I finally caught the calves and threw them into th= e back of the ol' Cessna 172. We climbed aboard but Ron, started getting on= to me about weight and balance calculations and all that....... Of course I knew that sort of thing was a waste of time because calves like to move around a bit, particularly when they see themselves 500-odd feet off the ground! So, it's pointless trying to secure them, as you know. However, I did tell Ron that he shouldn't worry as I always keep the trim wheel set = on neutral to ensure we remain pretty stable at all stages throughout the flight.=0D =0D Anyway, I started the engine and cleverly minimized the warm-up time by tramping hard on the brakes and gunning her to 2,500 RPM. I then discover= ed that Ron has very acute hearing, even though he was wearing a bloody head= set Through all that noise he detected a metallic rattle and demanded I acco= unt for it. Actually it began about a month ago and was caused by a screwdriv= er that fell down a hole in the floor and lodged in the fuel selector mechan= ism The selector can't be moved now, but it doesn't matter because it's jamm= ed on "All tanks," so I suppose that's all right.=0D =0D However, as Ron was obviously a nit-picker, I blamed the noise on vibrati= on from a stainless steel thermos flask which I keep between the windshield = and the magnetic compass. My explanation seemed to relax Ron, because he slum= ped back in the seat and kept looking up at the cockpit roof I released the brakes to taxi out, but unfortunately the plane gave a leap and spun to t= he right. "Hell" I thought, "not the starboard wheel chock again."=0D =0D The bump jolted Ron back to full alertness. He looked around just in time= to see a stone thrown up by the prop-wash disappear completely through the windscreen of his brand new Holden Commodore. "Now I'm really in trouble,= " I thought...=0D =0D While Ron was busy ranting about his car, I ignored his requirement that = we taxi to the "ALA," and instead took off under the power lines. Ron didn't say a word, at least not until the engine started coughing right at the lift-off point, and then he bloody screamed his head off. "Oh God! Oh God= ! Oh God!"=0D =0D "Now take it easy Ron," I told him firmly. "That often happens on take-of= f and there is a good reason for it." I explained patiently that I usually = run the plane on standard MOGAS, but one day I accidentally put in a gallon o= r two of kerosene. To compensate for the low octane of the kerosene, I siphoned in a few gallons of super MOGAS and shook the wings up and down = a few times to mix it up. Since then, the engine has been coughing a bit bu= t, in general, it works just fine, if you know how to coax it properly.=0D =0D Anyway, at this stage Ron seemed to lose all interest in my test flight. = He pulled out some rosary beads, closed his eyes and became lost in prayer (= I didn't think anyone was a Catholic these days). I selected some nice musi= c on the HF radio to help him relax. Meanwhile, I climbed to my normal cruising altitude of 10,500-feet. I don't normally put in a flight plan o= r get the weather because, as you know getting FAX access out here is a jok= e and the weather is always "8/8 blue" anyway. But since I had that near mi= ss with a Saab 340, I might have to change me thinking on that.=0D =0D Anyhow, on levelling out, I noticed some wild camels heading into my improved pasture. I hate bloody camels, and always carry a loaded 303, clipped inside the door of the Cessna just in case I see any of the basta= rds =0D =0D We were too high to hit them, but as a matter of principle, I decided to have a go through the open window. Mate, when I pulled the bloody rifle o= ut, the effect on Ron, was electric. As I fired the first shot his neck lengthened by about six inches and his eyes bulged like a rabbit with myx= o. He really looked as if he had=0D been jabbed with an electric cattle prod on full power. In fact, Ron's reaction was so distracting that I lost concentration for a second and th= e next shot went straight through the port tyre. Ron was a bit upset about = the shooting (probably one of those animal lovers I guess) so I decided not t= o tell him about our little=0D problem with the tyre.=0D =0D Shortly afterwards I located the main herd and decided to do my fighter pilot trick. Ron had gone back to praying when, in one smooth sequence, I pulled on full flaps, cut the power and started a sideslip from 10,500-fe= et down to 500-feet at 130 knots indicated (the last time I looked anyway) a= nd the little needle rushed up to the red area on me ASI. What a buzz, mate! About half way through the descent I looked back in the cabin to see the calves gracefully suspended in mid air and mooing like crazy. I was going= to comment to Ron on this unusual sight, but he looked a bit green and had rolled himself into the foetal position and was screamin' his freakin' he= ad off. Mate, talk about being in a bloody zoo. You should've been there, it was so bloody funny!=0D =0D At about 500 feet I levelled out, but for some reason we kept sinking. Wh= en we reached 50-feet, I applied full power but nothin' happened. No noise, = no nothin'. Then, luckily, I heard me instructor's voice in me head saying=20 carb heat, carb heat." So I pulled carb heat on and that helped quite a l= ot, with the engine=0D finally regaining full power. Whew, that was really close, let me tell yo= u!=0D =0D Then mate, you'll never guess what happened next! As luck would have it, = at that height we flew into a massive dust cloud caused by the cattle and suddenly went I.F. bloody R, mate. BJ, you would have been really proud o= f me as I didn't panic once, not once, but I did make a mental note to consider an instrument rating as soon as me gyro is repaired (something I= 've been meaning to do for a while (now). Suddenly Ron's elongated neck and bulging eyes reappeared. His Mouth opened wide, very wide, but no sound emerged. "Take it easy," I told him, "we'll be out of this in a minute." Sure enough, about a minute later we emerged, still straight and level an= d still at 50-feet.=0D =0D Admittedly I was surprised to notice that we were upside down, and I kept thinking to myself, "I hope Ron didn't notice that I had forgotten to set the QNH when we were taxiing." This minor tribulation forced me to fly to= a nearby valley in which I had to do a half roll to get upright again.=0D =0D By now the main herd had divided into two groups leaving a narrow strip between them. "Ah!" I thought, "there's an omen. We'll land right there." Knowing that the tyre problem demanded a slow approach, I flew a couple o= f steep turns with full flap. Soon the stall warning horn was blaring so lo= ud in me ear that I cut its=0D circuit breaker to shut it up, but by then I knew we were slow enough any= way I turned steeply onto a 75-foot final and put her down with a real thud. Strangely enough, I had always thought you could only ground loop in a ta= il dragger but, as usual, I was proved wrong again!=0D =0D Halfway through our third loop, Ron at last recovered his sense of humour= =2E Talk about laugh. I've never seen the likes of it. He couldn't stop. We finally rolled to a halt and I released the calves who bolted out of the aircraft like there was no tomorrow.=0D =0D I then began picking clumps of dry grass. Between gut-wrenching fits of laughter, Ron asked what I was doing. I explained that we had to stuff th= e port tyre with grass so we could fly back to the homestead. It was then t= hat Ron, really lost the plot and started running away from the aircraft. Can you believe it? The last time I saw him he was off into the distance, arm= s flailing in the air and still shrieking with laughter. I later heard that= he had been confined to a psychiatric institution - poor bugger!=0D =0D Anyhow mate, that's enough about Ron. The problem is I got this letter fr= om CASA 'withdrawing', as they put it, my privileges to fly; until I have undergone a complete pilot training course again and undertaken another flight proficiency test.=0D =0D Now I admit that I made a mistake in taxiing over the wheel chock and not setting the QNH using strip elevation, but I can't see what else I did th= at was a so bloody bad that they have to withdraw me=0D flamin' license. Can you?=0D =0D =0D =0D =0D =0D =0D =0D =0D =0D =20 --------------Boundary-00=_I5RL8QL8WCW000000000 Content-Type: Text/HTML; charset="us-ascii" Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable
No= t sure if this has been posted before.  They do things a bit di= fferently in Outback Australia.     Fred
&n= bsp;
Ma= te,
I am writing to you because I need your help to get me bloo= dy pilot's licence back. You keep telling me you got all the right contac= ts. Well now's your chance to make something happen for me because, mate,= I'm bloody desperate But first, I'd better tell you what happened during= my last flight review with the CASA Examiner.

On the phone, Ron (= that's the CASA man), seemed a reasonable sort of a bloke. He politely re= minded me of the need to do a flight review every two years. He even offe= red to drive out, have a look over my property and let me operate from my= own strip. Naturally I agreed to that.

Anyway, Ron turned up last= Wednesday. First up, he said he was a bit surprised to see the plane on = a small strip outside my homestead, because the "ALA" (Authorized Landing= Area), is about a mile away. I
explained that because this strip was = so close to the homestead, it was more convenient than the "ALA," and des= pite the power lines crossing about midway down the strip, it's really no= t a problem to land and take-off, because at the halfway point down the s= trip you're usually still on the ground.

For some reason Ron, seem= ed nervous. So, although I had done the pre-flight inspection only four d= ays earlier, I decided to do it all over again. Because he was watching m= e carefully, I walked around the plane three times instead of my usual tw= o..

My effort was rewarded because the colour finally returned to = Ron's cheeks. In fact, they went a bright red. In view of Ron's obviously= better mood, I told him I was going to combine the test flight with some= farm work, as I had to deliver three "poddy calves" from the home paddoc= k to the main herd. After a bit of a chase I finally caught the calves an= d threw them into the back of the ol' Cessna 172. We climbed aboard but R= on, started getting onto me about weight and balance calculations and all= that....... Of course I knew that sort of thing was a waste of time beca= use calves like to move around a bit, particularly when they see themselv= es 500-odd feet off the ground! So, it's pointless trying to secure them,= as you know. However, I did tell Ron that he shouldn't worry as I always= keep the trim wheel set on neutral to ensure we remain pretty stable at = all stages throughout the flight.

Anyway, I started the engine and= cleverly minimized the warm-up time by tramping hard on the brakes and g= unning her to 2,500 RPM. I then discovered that Ron has very acute hearin= g, even though he was wearing a bloody headset. Through all that noise he= detected a metallic rattle and demanded I account for it. Actually it be= gan about a month ago and was caused by a screwdriver that fell down a ho= le in the floor and lodged in the fuel selector mechanism. The selector c= an't be moved now, but it doesn't matter because it's jammed on "All tank= s," so I suppose that's all right.

However, as Ron was obviously a= nit-picker, I blamed the noise on vibration from a stainless steel therm= os flask which I keep between the windshield and the magnetic compass. My= explanation seemed to relax Ron, because he slumped back in the seat and= kept looking up at the cockpit roof I released the brakes to taxi out, b= ut unfortunately the plane gave a leap and spun to the right. "Hell" I th= ought, "not the starboard wheel chock again."

The bump jolted Ron = back to full alertness. He looked around just in time to see a stone thro= wn up by the prop-wash disappear completely through the windscreen of his= brand new Holden Commodore. "Now I'm really in trouble," I thought...
While Ron was busy ranting about his car, I ignored his requirement = that we taxi to the "ALA," and instead took off under the power lines. Ro= n didn't say a word, at least not until the engine started coughing right= at the lift-off point, and then he bloody screamed his head off. "Oh God= ! Oh God! Oh God!"

"Now take it easy Ron," I told him firmly. "Tha= t often happens on take-off and there is a good reason for it." I explain= ed patiently that I usually run the plane on standard MOGAS, but one day = I accidentally put in a gallon or two of kerosene. To compensate for the = low octane of the kerosene, I siphoned in a few gallons of super MOGAS an= d shook the wings up and down a few times to mix it up. Since then, the e= ngine has been coughing a bit but, in general, it works just fine, if you= know how to coax it properly.

Anyway, at this stage Ron seemed to= lose all interest in my test flight. He pulled out some rosary beads, cl= osed his eyes and became lost in prayer (I didn't think anyone was a Cath= olic these days). I selected some nice music on the HF radio to help him = relax. Meanwhile, I climbed to my normal cruising altitude of 10,500-feet= =2E I don't normally put in a flight plan or get the weather because, as = you know getting FAX access out here is a joke and the weather is always = "8/8 blue" anyway. But since I had that near miss with a Saab 340, I migh= t have to change me thinking on that.

Anyhow, on levelling out, I = noticed some wild camels heading into my improved pasture. I hate bloody = camels, and always carry a loaded 303, clipped inside the door of the Ces= sna just in case I see any of the bastards.

We were too high to hi= t them, but as a matter of principle, I decided to have a go through the = open window. Mate, when I pulled the bloody rifle out, the effect on Ron,= was electric. As I fired the first shot his neck lengthened by about six= inches and his eyes bulged like a rabbit with myxo. He really looked as = if he had
been jabbed with an electric cattle prod on full power. In f= act, Ron's reaction was so distracting that I lost concentration for a se= cond and the next shot went straight through the port tyre. Ron was a bit= upset about the shooting (probably one of those animal lovers I guess) s= o I decided not to tell him about our little
problem with the tyre.
Shortly afterwards I located the main herd and decided to do my figh= ter pilot trick. Ron had gone back to praying when, in one smooth sequenc= e, I pulled on full flaps, cut the power and started a sideslip from 10,5= 00-feet down to 500-feet at 130 knots indicated (the last time I looked a= nyway) and the little needle rushed up to the red area on me ASI. What a = buzz, mate! About half way through the descent I looked back in the cabin= to see the calves gracefully suspended in mid air and mooing like crazy.= I was going to comment to Ron on this unusual sight, but he looked a bit= green and had rolled himself into the foetal position and was screamin' = his freakin' head off. Mate, talk about being in a bloody zoo. You should= 've been there, it was so bloody funny!

At about 500 feet I levell= ed out, but for some reason we kept sinking. When we reached 50-feet, I a= pplied full power but nothin' happened. No noise, no nothin'. Then, lucki= ly, I heard me instructor's voice in me head saying "carb heat, carb heat= =2E" So I pulled carb heat on and that helped quite a lot, with the engin= e
finally regaining full power. Whew, that was really close, let me te= ll you!

Then mate, you'll never guess what happened next! As luck = would have it, at that height we flew into a massive dust cloud caused by= the cattle and suddenly went I.F. bloody R, mate. BJ, you would have bee= n really proud of me as I didn't panic once, not once, but I did make a m= ental note to consider an instrument rating as soon as me gyro is repaire= d (something I've been meaning to do for a while (now). Suddenly Ron's el= ongated neck and bulging eyes reappeared. His Mouth opened wide, very wid= e, but no sound emerged. "Take it easy," I told him, "we'll be out of thi= s in a minute." Sure enough, about a minute later we emerged, still strai= ght and level and still at 50-feet.

Admittedly I was surprised to = notice that we were upside down, and I kept thinking to myself, "I hope R= on didn't notice that I had forgotten to set the QNH when we were taxiing= =2E" This minor tribulation forced me to fly to a nearby valley in which = I had to do a half roll to get upright again.

By now the main herd= had divided into two groups leaving a narrow strip between them. "Ah!" I= thought, "there's an omen. We'll land right there." Knowing that the tyr= e problem demanded a slow approach, I flew a couple of steep turns with f= ull flap. Soon the stall warning horn was blaring so loud in me ear that = I cut its
circuit breaker to shut it up, but by then I knew we were sl= ow enough anyway. I turned steeply onto a 75-foot final and put her down = with a real thud. Strangely enough, I had always thought you could only g= round loop in a tail dragger but, as usual, I was proved wrong again!
=
Halfway through our third loop, Ron at last recovered his sense of hu= mour. Talk about laugh. I've never seen the likes of it. He couldn't stop= =2E We finally rolled to a halt and I released the calves who bolted out = of the aircraft like there was no tomorrow.

I then began picking c= lumps of dry grass. Between gut-wrenching fits of laughter, Ron asked wha= t I was doing. I explained that we had to stuff the port tyre with grass = so we could fly back to the homestead. It was then that Ron, really lost = the plot and started running away from the aircraft. Can you believe it? = The last time I saw him he was off into the distance, arms flailing in th= e air and still shrieking with laughter. I later heard that he had been c= onfined to a psychiatric institution - poor bugger!

Anyhow mate, t= hat's enough about Ron. The problem is I got this letter from CASA 'withd= rawing', as they put it, my privileges to fly; until I have undergone a c= omplete pilot training course again and undertaken another flight profici= ency test.

Now I admit that I made a mistake in taxiing over the w= heel chock and not setting the QNH using strip elevation, but I can't see= what else I did that was a so bloody bad that they have to withdraw meflamin' license. Can you?



 
 
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