Here's a pilot story you can use in your book. I do retain copyright
however.

My first solo cross-country was also my second solo flight. It was a
little more memorable than I planned. I had been taking flying lessons
roughly weekly starting just before Christmas of 2002. After about 30
something hours of excellent dual instruction I finally soloed. It was
both unremarkable and unforgettable at the same time. Every pilot
knows what the first solo is like, right?

I planned a long cross-country from Conway, SC down to Hilton Head, SC
via the VORTAC at Charleston, SC. From Hilton Head I planned to fly to
Florence, SC again via the Charleston VORTAC and then back direct to
Conway. It was intended to satisfy the long solo cross-country
requirement. The weather was fantastic. Visibility was pretty much
unlimited, temps were in the mid 70s and winds were light.

Since I was taking lessons on weekends and evenings I had more night
time than most students. Even so, my instructor wisely insisted on
some in-depth night training the night before my solo. That turned out
to be a very wise decision.

I started that morning nervous as a cat! It was a Saturday and the
second round of The Masters golf tournament was underway. Everything
went smoothly, though. Preflight was completely uneventful and takeoff
and pattern exit were totally normal. I contacted the Myrtle Beach
controller for flight following and headed down to Charleston while
climbing to 8500. My navigation was spot on and I was right on time
down to Charleston.

Then things started to go less than perfect. As soon as I passed the
CHS VORTAC I immediately dialed my nav receiver to the reciprocal of
my intended course so that it would read correctly while indicating
FROM. Some cumuli were building at my altitude so I notified
Charleston Approach that I was descending to 6500. I must have gotten
slightly off course during the descent over the VORTAC so I started
chasing the nav receiver for a couple of miles before I heard the
Charleston controller casually ask, "Skyhawk Niner-7-4-5-Niner did you
say you were heading to Hilton Head?"

"That's affirmative…4-5-Niner." I replied cheerily.

"Suggest course 221 for Hilton Head." the controller said in a deadpan
voice.

I really looked at my compass for the first time in several minutes…
010! Oops!

That's when I realized my mistake with the nav receiver. Doh! I felt
like a real idiot! I must be the only pilot who ever made that mistake
while a student! "Thanks for the heads up Charleston. I'm a student
pilot on my first solo cross-country!" I broadcast somewhat
sheepishly.

"No ****!" I imagined the controller thinking sarcastically as he
cleared traffic out of the way of the idiot student in the Skyhawk.
Worse than that, with the beautiful weather there were 5 other student
flights from Conway down to Hilton Head. Some of them had to be on the
Charleston Approach frequency. I was going to catch it when I got back
to the flight school.

"Understood 4-5-Niner…" was the actual response. I hoped things didn't
get any worse. I almost got luck there.

I got handed off to Beaufort Approach and made an uneventful pattern
entry and landing at Hilton Head. Unlike some smaller fields that I've
since visited, every plane in the area was actually listening on the
CTAF and making good position calls. If you've never visited Hilton
Head, it's quite a nice airport in one of the nicest resort spots in
the country. Highly recommended!

I parked the Skyhawk on the ramp as directed by the line-boy, killed
the avionics and pulled the mixture. It seems strange to refer to a
40-something, grizzled looking black man as a line-boy. I pulled off
my David Clarke's, unbuckled and unlatched the door. I was dripping
with sweat and shaking a little. I needed a Coca-Cola badly! Hank came
over and asked if I needed fuel. I told him to fill it up and started
to walk over to the FBO.

I noticed then that I'd parked next to two other planes from my flight
school and a couple of other students were standing nearby chewing the
fat. I figured I'd better go take my ribbing while it was still fresh.
Luckily Jen and Red were really nice about it. They were working on
their instrument requirements and said that yes they'd heard me on the
radio and no I hadn't sounded like a total fool. What really made me
feel better was having both of them inform me that they too had once
dialed the nav radio to the wrong course and ended up chasing a
reverse sensing needle. Apparently I'm not the only one.

I was more shook up than I thought I would be. I went into the FBO and
drank a couple of cold Coke's and used the restroom. The flight
planning room was jammed full. There were a bunch of people trying to
file flight plans and make phone calls. I ended up forgetting to call
my flight school and let them know I had made it safe and sound.
Luckily another student with an instructor showed up soon and reminded
me about that. I made the calls, closed my flight plan and filed
another for the next leg. All in all I stayed in Hilton Head about two
hours, much longer than I had planned.

I headed back out to the Skyhawk for an abbreviated preflight. I
confirmed that Hank had in fact filled the tanks with what looked and
smelled like avgas, there were no contaminants and the control
surfaces all looked and operated as designed. There were no obvious
problems with the engine. The oil was at six and a half quarts,
comfortably above the five quart minimum and only a smidge lower than
when I had left Conway.

Runup was normal and on this takeoff I really felt like I knew what I
was doing. I called up flight service on an RCO to open my flight
plan. I called twice and remembered to tell them what frequency on the
second call up. I contacted Beaufort Approach and flew back
uneventfully to the Charleston VORTAC at 5500. From Charleston to
Florence, there's a railroad that runs straight as an arrow with a
huge hydro-dam lake off to the left, so it's pretty hard to get lost
even if you're not flying a VOR radial. I flew along in slightly worse
conditions that my trip down. Cloud cover had dissipated, but the wind
had increased somewhat. Would you believe that it waited until it was
a headwind to increase? I knew you would!

I encountered some weird turbulence at 5500 so I informed flight
following that I was descending. I don't mind turbulence, just slow
down and deal with it, but this was odd stuff for me at the time.
Several minutes of smooth cruise would be followed by a couple of
relatively severe jolts that instantly went back to smooth. I kept my
indicated cruise down to around 90 knots and according to my E6B I was
only making about 65 knots groundspeed at 2000 feet. Yuck! It was good
practice with the E6B though.

Charleston switched me off to Myrtle Beach again when I wasn't far
south of Florence. We had no trouble communicating but the Myrtle
Beach controller couldn't pick me up on radar. I suggested contacting
Florence and the controller immediately agreed. Florence had me
immediately and vectored me in for spacing behind a King Air that was
going to overtake me. The King Air pilot asked for and received an
update on The Master's tournament that they had left earlier that day.
Pretty neat day so far!

I landed in Florence, taxied to the FBO ramp behind the King Air and
went inside to call the flight school and close my flight plan and
file the last leg. I used the bathroom and went back to the Skyhawk
for the last leg. Dusk had passed and night was approaching. I was
very glad I'd had the extra night training the previous evening.

Preflight and runup were normal except for one thing. The low voltage
light stayed on for about 30 seconds before going off. I checked the
ammeter and it showed nothing unusual. I wrote it off to 1984
electronics and taxied to the runway. Takeoff was smooth and soon I
was headed home into the rapidly deepening darkness.

Interestingly, it was lighter immediately as soon as I took off, but
it was again rapidly growing dark even in the air. I asked for
permission from the Florence controller to leave the frequency and
open my flight plan with Flight Service. Everything was going smoothly
and the late evening air was absolutely smooth. I love flying that
time in the evening.

About 10 minutes into the flight the low voltage light flickered back
on! I immediately checked the ammeter… FULL DISCHARGE! I didn't panic,
but I was nervous. I immediately turned off all the electrical
equipment that I didn't deem necessary. Each switch caused the
ammeter's discharge needle to move a little bit more back towards
straight up and down, but it was still discharging.

I contacted Florence, "Florence Departure, Skyhawk Niner-7-4-5-Niner
has an apparently failed alternator. I'm going to try to trouble shoot
it and may be off the air and without transponder for a few moments."

"Roger Skyhawk 4-5-Niner. We have you on primary radar. Report back
this frequency when able."

"I should have plenty of battery, Florence, this just happened. I'll
report back momentarily." I shut off all electronics and lights. I
pulled the alternator breaker and reset it. Nothing happened. I cut
the master switch off momentarily and the low voltage light still
glared angrily at me.

I cut my primary com back on and called up Florence, "Florence
Departure, Skyhawk Niner-7-4-5-Niner is back. I'm going to turn around
and come back to land. I've been unable to fix the alternator problem.
I don't know what my battery life will be, over."

"Skyhawk 4-5-Niner, no problem, son! We'll get you down!" I must have
sounded a little panicky for him to talk that way to me, but I didn't
think I had.

"Florence, I'd like to keep my transponder and and lights off to
conserve power"

"That's fine 4-5-Niner. We have you on primary radar and there's only
one other plane in the air." I didn't respond to conserve power.

I considered cutting my radio off to make sure I had battery power for
the landing lights, but I wasn't really worried. I'd spent the
previous evening making lights-off landings for my night
qualifications. All in all I was fairly calm. I knew I could have
continued on to Conway, since I was almost halfway there, but I was
much more secure with Florence since they had radar.

It seemed like an hour but it was really only about 10 or 15 minutes
before I was back on the ground at Florence safe and sound. I pulled
out my cellphone and called my flight school and told them what
happened. They told me that I had done the right thing. Then I called
my wife to let her know what had happened and ask her to come pick me
up. I still haven't heard the end of that, by the way!

Next day I called the flight school to see what happened. They weren't
able to find anything wrong with the plane! They ferried it back to
Conway without any problems. I got some teasing for that. Eventually
it happened to one of the instructors and they replaced something in
the electrical. I never did find out what.

That same day I called up Sporty's website and orded a hand-held
nav/com radio and a Garmin 196. I haven't heard the end of that
either.

Robbie Walker, PP-ASEL, works for Atlantic Printing in Tabor City, NC.
He has always wanted to learn to fly and finally at age 32 did his
primary training at North American Institute of Aviation in Conway, SC
(HYW). He passed his checkride in late June of 2003.