At no point did Tom question the proficiency of someone who hasn’t soloed an airplane in 19 years. Mostly because it’s a stupid question, and also because anything resembling proficiency would have departed the brain sometime during the Bush administration. But also because those of us so to whom this question applies know damn well how rusty we are.

On the day I was planning to solo my Cessna 170 for the very first time, these thoughts began to swirl around my head from the moment I woke up. I had spent the preceding weeks flying with my instructor in preparation for this. Flight after flight, he threw a barrage of challenges my way, and I managed to handle most of them without looking as out-of-practice as I felt.

Accordingly, he signed me off to solo my airplane. Subject to crosswind components of 8 knots or less, visibility of greater than 3 miles, and ceilings of at least 2,000 feet agl, I was free to go play. He also signed me off to fly to several other airports, one of which happened to be the airport at which I was scheduled to drop my airplane off for its first annual inspection.

The pressure, therefore, was on. It was time to leave the nest of supervised comfort and see if I still possessed the ability to safely fly solo. And it was time to start thinking about solo cross country flights so that I may get the airplane to the mechanic 50 miles away without having to rely on friends to do so. Generous as they were with their time and expertise, I had long been feeling like a burden to them, and I was eager to become self-sufficient.

• WHAT A CFI WANTS YOU TO KNOW: What to Know Before You Solo

On the morning of my planned “first” solo, the nerves were fully spooled up, and I was simultaneously dreading and looking forward to the flight later that afternoon. The forecast looked promising, with airports in the region all showing clear skies and light winds. I closely monitored them through my workday before finally heading down to the airport that afternoon.

Upon arrival, the windsock informed me that the local conditions were perhaps not quite as idyllic as the METARs at surrounding airports. While the sky was indeed clear, the winds had picked up and had shifted to a crosswind. I preflighted the airplane anyway, and when I walked back outside to check the windsock a second time, the taut fabric extended outward like a giant orange middle finger to my plans. 

The crosswind wasn’t a strong one, but it was enough of one that I opted to delay my flight. Though I’d been doing fine with stronger crosswinds during my training, I didn’t want to have to deal with any on my first solo flight in the airplane. I took the opportunity to dig through old boxes, reorganize things in the hangar, and tidy up.

After about an hour or two, I walked outside to have another look at the windsock. The wind had died down…and mercifully, it had also aligned with the runway. I monitored it for a little while longer, and finally made the call; waiting had become tedious, conditions were good, and so, it was time to fly.

Despite having thoroughly preflighted the airplane in the hangar, I pulled it out and preflighted it again. The winds had calmed down enough that the paramotor operator on the field had just begun operations. Seeing a couple of the instructors zipping out to the runway aboard a minibike, I flagged them down and described my plan to conduct three takeoffs and landings. 

Ever the professionals, the instructors happily agreed to pause their operations for me, and encouraged me to take my time. They said they’d simply hang out along the sides of the runway and take a break while I flew. Every time I’d interacted with this group, they’d impressed me with their level of discipline and cooperation. 

• FOLLOW FROM THE BEGINNING: Previous editions of “The New Owner”

As I walked back to my airplane, I wondered whether I should have mentioned that this would not only be my first solo flight in a taildragger, but that it would also be my first solo flight in any airplane since 2003. I opted not to say anything about my grotesque lack of proficiency. I was confident I could keep the airplane on the runway, and figured such a warning would create unwarranted fear among the daredevil paramotor crew.

You can’t help but feel cool when taxiing your very own taildragger. And while looking cool has never been a major goal of mine, I did my best to provide a steely-eyed look of confidence as I taxied past my audience lining the touch down zone of the runway. They were all smiles and waves, and I returned a laid-back wave to them as I focused on holding full up elevator and carefully searching for woodchuck holes in the runway.  

With a tap of the left brake, I performed a jaunty 180 as only taildraggers can do and lined up for takeoff. After readjusting the mixture to full rich and methodically running through the pre-takeoff checks, I applied full power. Without the weight of my instructor next to me, the tail came up earlier than usual, and my solo PIC bravery was rewarded with a relatively quick hop into the air and a healthier-than usual climb rate.

And just like that, I was soloing an airplane again. 

From the time I cleared the trees on the departure end of the runway, the nerves melted away, never to return. The airplane performed perfectly, and it was no great effort to hit my target altitudes throughout the pattern. The air was smooth and the sinking sun cast golden light from behind as I turned final.

Other than silently reminding myself to avoid killing the nice people sitting alongside the runway, I didn’t do anything different than usual to set up for landing. Flaps 40. Control forces nicely trimmed away. And just a touch of power to maintain 65 mph on the way in.

My adherence to routine paid off, and I was able to smoothly settle into nice, three-point, full-stall landings. Fun as wheel landings had been to perform with my instructor, I opted not to push my luck by introducing any more complexity or difficulty than absolutely necessary. After my third landing, I radioed a thank you to the nice paramotor folks and headed back to the hangar.

With this milestone checked off of my to-do list, I reflected that proficiency can be a funny thing. While a pilot who isolates themselves from aviation entirely can expect to encounter a significantly steep learning curve upon their return to the cockpit, regular ride-alongs can do wonders for one’s comfort level when flying resumes. Though I hadn’t soloed in many years, my regular flights with airplane owners as part of the Approachable Aircraft series kept my head in the game to a certain extent, and this eased the process of returning to proficiency.

For many of us who are forced to focus on life at the expense of flying regularly, this may be the answer to a safe return to the air. By cultivating relationships with other local pilots and joining them for an occasional $100 hamburger, we can reimmerse ourselves into the flying environment with a minimum investment in time or money. While no substitute for formal instruction, this has the effect of shaking the dust off of the general aviation neurons in our brain and setting us up for success when we finally are able to continue our own flying.

For me, the biggest challenge was getting over that first solo flight and conquering the doubt that I’d still be able to fly safely on my own. As it turned out, that doubt lived only in my head, and was extinguished by my first takeoff. A mental switch was flipped, and as I buttoned up the hangar later that evening, I found myself looking forward to the next flight.

The post Finally, It’s Time To Solo appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Richmond, 67, died on November 21 at his home in Yakima, Washington. He was surrounded by his family. 

Richmond founded CubCrafters in 1980 after a trip to Alaska where he saw how much the Piper Super Cub was used for backcountry operations. An engineer as well as a skilled A&P mechanic, Richmond sought ways to improve on the iconic design through modifications and refinements. It was his mission to take modern materials and manufacturing techniques to create an airplane that was safer and more efficient than its iconic predecessor.

According to a statement from CubCrafters, the company has built more than 1,500 new aircraft while simultaneously rebuilding and restoring aircraft for customers around the world.

Although retired from day-to-day management of CubCrafters, Richmond continued to be active in managing the strategic and creative direction of the company until his death. 

“CubCrafters is truly a family. Our employees, customers, and affiliates all feel Jim’s loss,” said Pat Horgan, current company president and CEO. “In everything we do moving forward, Jim will be with us. It was his stated intention that CubCrafters would continue as the market leader in the design and manufacture of the best backcountry aircraft in the world. 

“Both Jim’s family and the CubCrafters leadership team are fully committed to continue growing the aviation legacy that Jim started.”

A memorial service to celebrate Jim Richmond’s life is scheduled for December 4 at the CubCrafters Factory in Yakima, Washington. In lieu of flowers, the family suggests donations to the Idaho Aviation Foundation.

The post CubCrafters Founder Jim Richmond Dies appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Most pilots are introduced to tailwheel flying in small, two-place types such as the Piper Cub, Aeronca Champ and Cessna 140—airplanes that are perfectly suited to initial training and short pleasure flights. But as they build experience, more than a few pilots begin to recognize the limitations of these bantamweights and begin searching for an airplane that offers the satisfaction and fun of a taildragger with the flexibility and utility to unlock a wider variety of flying adventures. Lately, more and more are arriving at the conclusion that the Cessna 170 provides an optimal blend of qualities. Here, we explore what the 170 is like to own and what those owners enjoy most about it.

Design

In 1948, World War II had come to an end, soldiers had returned home to the postwar prosperity of the United States, and consumers weary from years of rationing were buying airplanes as quickly as factories could build them. Cessna was selling thousands of its small, two-place 120 and 140, as well as seeing success with the larger, radial-powered 190 and 195 that seated five people. The jump from one to the other was significant, however, and it didn’t take long for the company to identify this gap in their product offerings.

To address this, Cessna opted to stick with a proven formula. The company created a larger, four-place version of its existing 140 and named it the 170. The two types shared a number of features, including spring-steel landing gear, an aluminum airframe, toe brakes, a large floor-mounted flap lever, and control yokes rather than sticks.

So successful was the design, the 170 would go on to evolve into the wildly popular tricycle-gear 172, and initially, the landing-gear configuration was one of the only differences between the two. At first, they were built side by side on the very same assembly line. Although taildragger production quickly faded in favor of the 172 and other tricycle-gear types, Cessna achieved its goal of effectively bridging the gap between its two existing single-engine product offerings.

Model History

Three variants of the 170 were produced between 1948 and 1956: the 170, 170A and 170B.

The initial version is called the 170 and is commonly referred to as the “ragwing” or the “straight 170.” It was produced for one year only (1948) and is essentially a larger version of the 140. From a distance and without a sense of scale, the two types look nearly identical, with a fabric-covered constant-chord wing, dual wing struts, and a vertical stabilizer that lacks the curved dorsal fin of the later 170s. A total of 714 were built, and these examples tend to be the least expensive means of becoming a 170 owner.

The original fabric wing is characterized by light, crisp roll authority and docile, predictable stall qualities. It’s highly regarded by those who own them, but when evaluating a 170 with a fabric wing, a prospective owner must consider the age and condition of the fabric. Though modern covering systems can last decades when properly cared for, a 170 that’s due for new fabric can cost $8,000 to $10,000 to bring up to date. In such a case, it might make more sense in the long term to pay the premium for a 170A or 170B that, with their all-metal wings, will never require such service.

The 170A was built from 1949 to 1951, and the all-metal wing was indeed the primary change from the 170. The wing has a tapered design with squared-off wingtips, and a single wing strut on each side. The flaps were enlarged, and the maximum flap setting increased from 30 degrees to 50 degrees. Fuel capacity increased from 37.5 gallons to 42 gallons, and the dorsal fin was added, giving it a resemblance to the 190 and 195. A total of 1,522 170A models were built.

The final 170 variant was the 170B. Of the 2,900 examples that were produced from 1952 to 1957, the primary change was the wing. It introduced 3 degrees of dihedral and larger, semi-Fowler flaps. The improved flaps are hugely effective; at gross weight and standard conditions at sea level, the 170B requires only 65 percent of the distance required by the 170A to land over a 50-foot obstacle. And because the flaps produce more lift at smaller settings, takeoff distance over a 50-foot obstacle is reduced by nearly 200 feet.

At their maximum 40-degree setting, the huge flaps can disrupt airflow over the tail surface during slips, which can cause the airplane to pitch down suddenly and severely with potentially fatal results. Accordingly, the 170B flight manual includes a warning that with full flaps, slips are to be avoided. Fortunately, the maximum flap setting enables such a steep approach, owners agree that slips with full flaps are never necessary.

In addition to the improved flaps, the 170B also introduced a balanced horizontal stabilizer and elevator that provide lighter control forces and reduce the need for trim adjustments as speed and configuration changes.

All 170s came equipped from the factory with the 145 hp, six-cylinder Continental C-145, which later became known as the O-300. The relatively modest power means that most 170s are capable of getting into airstrips that they might not be able to get out of, but as the engines are essentially O-200s with two extra cylinders, they’re well-regarded for their reliability and smoothness.

Market Snapshot

A survey of 170s listed for sale at the time of this writing found 21 examples ranging in price from $38,900 for a 170A with a bad cylinder to a $135,000 heavily modified 170B with an upgraded engine and propeller. The median price of the group was $65,000, and the median airframe time was approximately 3,700 hours.

The least expensive 170s tend to be 1948 models with the fabric wing, while the B-models are listed at an average price of $81,000. Predictably, the examples that have been upgraded with more-powerful engines top the range, commonly reaching six figures.

• READ MORE: Previous Editions of Approachable Aircraft

The value of the 170 has increased notably in the past several years, and this appears to be at least partially attributable to a lower inventory. The popularity of tailwheel aircraft in general and backcountry flying in particular has made 170s of all varieties quite desirable, and their value seems to have outpaced other types.

Flight Characteristics

Climb into the cabin of a 170, and one of the most significant strengths of the design becomes immediately apparent—visibility over the nose is fantastic. This makes taxiing easy and straightforward, and no S-turning is necessary to see where you’re going. The airplane is reasonably easy to maneuver on the ground, and when full rudder doesn’t result in an immediate turn, a light tap of the brake ushers the tail into the direction you desire.

The spring-steel gear legs have a fair amount of flex and do a good job of soaking up bumps. While taxiing on lumpy, uneven surfaces, the airplane tends to wallow just a bit as the wing gently rolls left and right. Later B models feature slightly stiffer gear legs, which minimize the sway to a degree.

Compared with smaller types such as Cubs and 140s—which are invariably flown within a few hundred pounds of gross weight—the 170 can be a very different airplane from one end of the weight-and-balance envelope to the other. Flown solo at sea level with a bit of fuel burned off, the 145 hp Continental provides sprightly takeoff performance, often returning takeoff rolls in the 500-foot range. Loaded to maximum takeoff weight, however, one must expect a 60 percent longer takeoff roll, followed by a rather laborious climb rate that requires 1,820 feet to clear a 50-foot obstacle.

Once in the air, the 170 is as unremarkable as the 172 into which it evolved. Climb performance is sufficient but not impressive; stalls and handling are docile and predictable; and depending on the propeller, cruise performance hovers around 100 to 120 mph, with most owners reporting a fuel burn of 7 to 8 gallons per hour. Useful loads are generally around 850 pounds, leaving roughly 600 pounds for people and gear with full tanks.

Like most taildraggers, landing demands vigilance. The 170 is more docile than many, but the spring-steel landing gear lacks damping of any kind, and this requires a careful, controlled touchdown. Unlike Piper Pacers and Stinson 108s that are equipped with oil damping to slow the rebound, a firm touchdown in a 170 will cause the gear legs to snap back and enthusiastically return the airplane back into the sky.

For those using their 170 to venture out to bumpy strips or off-airport, however, the benefits of the tailwheel configuration quickly become clear. There’s no chance of damaging a fragile nosewheel or firewall on rough ground, and prop strikes are far less likely thanks to greatly increased prop clearance.

Ownership

With more than 5,000 examples produced, most parts are easily sourced for the 170, and it’s not difficult to find qualified mechanics who are familiar with the type. A relatively small number of airworthiness directives on the airframe helps to simplify pre-purchase inspections; other than recurring ADs on the seat tracks and Bendix mag switches, most are either one-time inspections or applicable only to the engine and/or engine accessories.

Ownership is made even easier with a vibrant type club, the International Cessna 170 Association, where members gather online and around the world to share tips and knowledge. Owners actively collaborate to identify and address emerging maintenance issues among the fleet, adding a great layer of safety to the ownership of an aging aircraft.

After the purchase, the 170 is something of a blank canvas. An owner can install original wheelpants and polish bare aluminum for a bit more speed and a classic 1950s look, or they can install a STOL kit and tundra tires for backcountry adventuring. Similarly, the interior can be restored to recapture the original 1950s style, or the upholstery and rear seat can be removed altogether to save weight and maximize cargo space.

Owners with significantly larger budgets are able to completely transform their 170s by installing a larger engine, such as the 180 hp Lycoming O-360. This transforms a stock 170 with its mediocre climb rate into a powerful machine that can much more easily handle short runways with departure-end obstacles. This performance also unlocks capability at high altitudes, particularly when paired with modern composite propellers. While such performance doesn’t come cheap at approximately $50,000 to $60,000 to start, the desirability in today’s market is such that it tends to return a corresponding increase in the aircraft’s resale value.

Inertia-reel shoulder harnesses are a popular modification. Unlike basic fixed shoulder harnesses that require the pilot to constantly loosen them to lean forward and reach the floor-mounted flap handle, the inertia-reel harnesses enable the pilot to reach the flap lever unencumbered and undistracted.

The 170 strikes a great balance of being easy to handle yet never boring. It’s common enough for service and most parts to be easily sourced, but it’s unique enough to turn heads on any ramp. And while the technical differences between the various 170 subtypes are notable, most owners agree that pilot proficiency and skill can easily make up for most of those differences.

Capable of being flown on wheels, skis or floats, the 170 enables adventures of all kinds. The payload falls short of a 180 or 185, but so too does the fuel burn and operating expense. For the pilot who wants a relatively economical taildragger with the ability to take a friend and a pair of bicycles on weeklong camping trips, the 170′s unique blend of strengths make it a particularly attractive approachable aircraft—and a ticket to further adventures.

This story appeared in the August 2021 issue of Flying Magazine

The post The Cessna 170 Is a Ticket to Adventure appeared first on FLYING Magazine.