Piper Super Cub : Whats it like?
 

Hi All
After 220 hours flying PA28s and 172s the time is right have a go at flying the Cub. Have first hour booked for next weekend.

Would love to hear views on what I can expect!

Cheers

It's awesome :ok: The one I've flown has very little in the way of avionics (just compass, ASI, alt, t/s -no di/AH/radio navaids etc) and just the one radio. The cockpit is very spacious (it's a later-model supercub) and feels quite robust.

It's got very good shortfield performance, and generally is very nice to fly. Having said that, I've very little experience on type, and others will be able to tell you more.

The most tricky part so far I've found is getting into the damn thing! It is a lot of fun though, so I expect you won't regret it :ok: .

After 220 hours of spamcan you should expect to be challenged again, especially where you might not expect it - i.e on the ground! Super Cubs are great fun, you will never look back.

Suddenly, you'll start to understand that the rudder pedals are for more than steering on the ground. You'll be introduced to the joys of landing an aircraft that won't gloss over minor inaccuracies in your technique

But, best of all, you'll be flying something that is fun.

Yeah, robin, well said. Also your spamcan landings will improve dramatically.

Not for me, my first landing in an Arrow after my t/d conversion was bloody awful :\ I blame going from finger tips to brute force (twas a T-tail Arrow).

Thanks so far guys.

When you say "its fun" can you eloborate? - why is it fun exactly? am curious...my perception is that

* it'll give me a new challenge, which of course is fun in itself.
* I'll develop stick n rudder skills and get fun from "feeling" the aircraft more
* better all ground visibility from the air (hi wing/tandem seating)
* be fun to fly a true classic instead of a "spamcan" - I mean just look at it...what a lovely machine...

Speaking personally, flying something like a Cub after the usual suspects is not just about learning new techiques - it is a whole new way of flying and everything that goes with it. It's like seeing TV in colour after years of a black and white TV :yuk:

It opens up the world of strip flying, which in turn means you start looking at making more of your own decisions, rather than letting ATC do it for you. For me it meant joining the local PFA Strut and getting involved with fly-ins.

When I was flying spamcans and renting from a club, I had little to do with other members of the club, and my flights were solitary.

Flying slower often means operating lower and with limited panels. You get to read the weather better, as the aircraft are lighter and more prone to being affected by adverse weather (esp crosswinds)

But, you'll find it difficult to stop smiling when you do get it right.

You asked for people to elaborate so I thought I'd share how it went for me on my tailwheel conversion:

If you read The Compleat Taildragger Pilot by Harvey S. Plourde, and you should; he lists seven reasons for learning to fly a tailwheel aircraft. As I could tick five of them I thought that it was probably time that I bit the bullet and booked some lessons to give it a go. Like many people trying to support a flying habit I have to do so around family commitments and earning almost enough to pay for it; therefore time is somewhat limited and it was for that reason that I unwittingly set myself the challenge of learning to fly a taildragger in two and a half days.

After looking around and taking some advice from friends and magazines alike, as well as from Pprune, I ended up calling The Northampton School of Flying at Sibson. I was lucky enough to speak to Lucy Kimbell who arranged enough slots within the time to make it seem possible for me to do it. I arrived at a somewhat gusty Sibson on Wednesday morning with eight slots booked before two-thirty on Friday and only the tiniest inkling of what I was letting myself in for.

The welcome at Sibson was warm and friendly and I was given a full tour before being introduced to Frank McClurg, the school’s Chief Flying Instructor. Frank checked out my pitifully empty logbook with less than a hundred spamcan hours in it and didn’t even wince at my still shiny licence before taking me to the hangar to meet G-ARVO, the school’s bright yellow Piper PA-18-95. In General Aviation there seems to be something to suit every taste and most pockets; a lot of people fall for sleek and shiny glass fibre rockets with televisions where the dials should be; glass on the inside, glass on the outside but I’d fallen in love with this sixty year old fabric covered machine; I could just about imagine sitting inside, floating high above the English countryside; dope on the outside, dope on the inside, you might say.

We dragged G-ARVO from the hangar and Frank showed me a thorough pre-flight inspection before we came to the week’s first big challenge. How does a six-foot healthily built chap get himself into the pilot’s seat? With some difficulty, is the simple answer but eventually, and with a complete absence of grace and style, I was in. There is very little inside a Cub to check and so we were soon started and taxying, Frank explained that he’d talk me through a take-off and then we’d head out for some general handling before coming back for my first tailwheel landing. I was amazed at the visibility from the front seat, if you’re six feet tall with only about twenty-five percent of that made up of short, fat hairy legs then the view over the nose is quite exceptional. We taxied out to the end of 24 and Frank gently opened the throttle, raising the tail as he did so; I never did work out how he kept it that straight, didn’t smash the propeller into a thousand splinters or saw past my prop forward’s shoulders but, before I had time to take anything in, we were airborne. It had all been quite disconcerting as the aircraft took off with no-one visibly controlling it; just Frank’s quiet, calm confidence behind me.

Frank gave me control and I climbed quite slowly in the direction of Molesworth, the view over the nose and out of both sides was incredible, here I was perched under those little yellow wings flying one of the icons of light aviation. I don’t have a lot to compare the Cub to but I loved it right from the start, a proper stick and a proper throttle and an aeroplane that you could feel moving underneath you. Once I’d got the hang of something different then the turns were great fun and the stall never really happened, I’m sure with a decent headwind you’d just end up back at the airfield without turning round or the nose ever nodding downwards. Then Frank took control of my proper throttle and closed it.

‘Let’s try a forced landing. Seventy knots for the glide.’

The Cub seemed to hang in the air and I therefore chose a field which was only about three miles further than we could possibly ever glide from two and a half thousand feet. Following Frank’s timely intervention and demonstration of a side slip in which the world pauses and merely moves up the windscreen, we would have made a lovely landing in the brown corduroy of quite a different field altogether.

Then it was back to Sibson for my first ever tailwheel landing. If you’ve never tried to land a tailwheel aircraft – which, in my opinion, you should do and do it today – then you might not appreciate that the aircraft must be heading dead straight at touchdown; however, that is no guarantee of the way you will be heading three nanoseconds later, or three nanoseconds after that. If you don’t dance on the rudder pedals like Fred Astaire on cocaine then the aircraft could go any way at all and you could end up in a groundloop where the aircraft turns round by itself and has a look at where you came from. They say that there are two types of tailwheel pilot; those who have groundlooped and those who are waiting to; for me the waiting was almost over.

The circuit and descent were as I’d always done before, with the aeroplane clearly not giving a damn where its wheels were, the flare was very similar and then we were down; after a fashion. My feet were clearly half a swing behind my brain which was another half a swing behind the aeroplane. With all that swinging going on it was only a matter of time before G-ARVO slowly and gracefully turned round to give me a view of the approach.

A coffee, debrief and some good natured questioning about why Frank had had to get out of the aeroplane and turn it round by hand before we taxied back and it was time for some more. If you’ve ever been to a summer fete where one of the attractions was a crazy bicycle where nothing is connected the right way round and none of your inputs seem to affect a machine with a will of its own then you will have an idea of how the taxying went. If you’ve ever fallen off one of those bicycles then you know all there is to know about my first take-off.

Circuit after circuit followed with the occasional decent landing and the odd almost reasonable take-off; though never together in the same circuit. The taxying began to get easier as well without having to stop and ask Frank to turn the aircraft for me. For the penultimate circuit Frank showed me again just how easy it could seem and we ended the day with an unaided take-off and landing that we not only survived but managed to keep the aircraft all in one piece, too.

By the end of the day I was completely shattered and probably sweatier than anyone you’d ever choose to share a cockpit with. This aeroplane was delightful to fly but nigh on impossible to take-off or land. As I drove away from the airfield a red kite hung four feet above a bush, judging the wind perfectly and hanging in the air while it watched its prey; I know that bird’s beaks don’t actually allow them to smirk at passing motorists, however...

Day two of two and a half arrived and we waited in NSF’s clubhouse for the showers to pass. People had said to me that learning to fly a taildragger was like learning to fly all over again, it wasn’t, it was far more difficult; more like learning to juggle, in public and starting off with four flaming torches rather than two bean bags.

Three hours of circuits and bumps later and, while Frank assured me that it was coming together and it would soon just click into place, I wasn’t sure that I’d ever master this lark. I’d more or less got the idea of taxying; getting the weight off the tailwheel ever so slightly, bursts of power to get round, always thinking of where the wind was; it seemed like an expensive lesson in moving an aeroplane on the ground. Frank had taught me to feel when the aeroplane was right and get the picture right rather than chasing numbers. He was quite right, I could now feel when she was ready to fly, when she was getting too slow or too fast. When it looked right and felt right then it had to be right. I’m sure that it was coming together, just as I was told, it seemed a little bit more possible each time, the aeroplane and I at least shared the decision making now, rather than it all being up to G-ARVO. I was feeling a little dejected, though; I was a pilot, I had a licence, I should be making more of the decisions.

Friday dawned clearer and brighter with a lighter wind which almost lined up with the runway, I was feeling brighter too. If only I could almost line up with the runway at some point before two-thirty then we might even get this done. Even though I’d booked well in advance Frank had been booked solid for the day and so I was flying with James Bryan, another of the club’s instructors and one of the few men who can make a six-foot, sixteen stone ex-rugby player feel small; I felt quite sorry for little G-ARVO as we dragged her into the sun.

I started her up and taxied round to the holding point, quick bursts of power to move the slipstream over that rudder and get her round. Power checks complete and ready for departure. Onto 24, nice and straight, add power gently bringing the tail up at the same time, speed increasing, dancing on the pedals anticipating the swing before it started, ease off that forward pressure as we meet the slight bump on the runway then continue to ease it off and we’re airborne. Climbing out but not for long.

‘Level it off there.’ James instructs me. ‘I get hypoxic if we go any higher than this.’

As a low-houred PPL, who is used to climbing out to two and a half thousand feet where everybody else is, to have levelled out whilst not quite at circuit height is a new one on me.

‘You’re a taildragger pilot, now.’ James tells me.

He guided me to Deenethorpe along a track he knew well; pointing out the site of Fotheringhay castle where Mary lost her head, the faint tracks of Roman roads still marking the landscape beneath, crop marks that showed where people had lived two thousand years before, looking up at this sky that was now mine. Green fields bordered by darker hedgerows; the occasional church spire in a far off village; clouds of dust following harvesting tractors; fluffy white cumulus clouds in the unending blue above and around me; the feel of an aeroplane that wanted to fly and almost seemed to enjoy this as much as me.

Deenethorpe, asphalt, less forgiving than grass for tailwheel pilots, I’m told. Straight in, all looking good, all feeling good; the foundations that Frank had laid over two days all holding me up. Straight down the middle, holding it off, keeping her flying, holding off, all three wheels touch, we’re straight, we’re staying straight. James opens up the power slightly, just enough to raise the tail, and gets me to steer down the middle of the runway; I’m clenching my teeth so tight I think that I might break them but we stay fairly straight and then open the throttle to fly off and do it again and again. Whilst I am still working hard, it is all falling into place, I am getting this, I am not a completely uncoordinated buffoon after all. I could do this all day if I could afford to but if God had meant us to fly he would have given us more money.

Off to Conington, a landaway, I haven’t done nearly enough of those since I got my licence. Join downwind, checks complete, turn base, start the descent, turn finals, the winds thirty degrees off and fourteen knots; time for more teeth clenching. It all seems to work, though and the little waggle into wind after landing isn’t too embarrassing. We park up and unfold ourselves from the aircraft for coffee and bacon sandwiches before the return to Sibson and a three pointer that stays straight.

‘Okay,’ James tells me after we’ve refuelled, ‘go over towards the masts, get the feel of it without me in it, have some fun and come back when you’re ready.’

I’m going solo.

The tail moves round much more easily with only me on board, sat up front. Open the throttle and the tail comes up easily, we’re airborne before I’ve had the chance to worry about it swinging. Climb out and have some fun, that’s what the man said. She climbs more quickly and I’m soon up at three thousand feet, finding my way round turns, climbing, descending, just plain looking out of the window and smiling. The winds been a bit gusty and has been varying by thirty degrees either side of the runway and up to sixteen knots, then I hear Charlie Kimbell in the Tiger Moth call finals.

‘230 at 8 knots,’ he’s told.

Sounds like it’s time for me to head back before it changes its mind.

Join downwind; no overhead joins here, it’s also a parachute school, run through my checks, here we go. Everything looks good on final and the wind hasn’t changed its mind. Power off, flare, hold it off, she floats more now than before, keep holding off, all three points.

‘Nine and a half out of ten.’ The radio informs me.

I taxy in and shut down at twenty-eight minutes past two; two minutes short of my deadline.

So, it seems as though it is possible to go from groundloop to greaser in two and a half days, even with my lack of co-ordination, but you have to be very lucky; lucky with the school you choose, lucky with your instructors, lucky with the weather and lucky with aircraft serviceability. I really can’t thank everyone at Northampton School of Flying enough, for the warm welcome and excellent instruction and the excellent engineering which meant that I always had an aircraft to fly.

So, now you’ve seen that it can be done, I would wholeheartedly recommend that you give it a go too. It’s a challenge but it’s impossible to overstate what it will do for your confidence and enthusiasm for flying.

It seemed to me, if ever there was an aeroplane that hated moving on the ground...this was it.

All I can remember is my instructor laughing hysterically as we veered and weaved down the runway...first one way then the other as I gamely overcorrected tried to keep the thing straight....and that was just taking off.

After pulling on everything hard, I managed to get into the air on the very margins of the airfield. Three or more minutes of enjoyment before time to force the B****y thing back onto the ground...more entertainment for the back seat.....

Of course, after about ten hours, you work it out. Let the aircraft do the job itself. You just need to provide the tiniest, tiniest inputs.

Then she flies like a dream...:)

Great post JAFO. I also did my tailwheel difference training with Frank on G-ARVO, but when NFS were based at Sywell and ARVO was blue.

The view out the front is truely amazing, and I'd forgotten about how much easier ARVO was without an instructor in the back. I've since frlown Cessna 140s and Aerona Chiefs where the side-by-side seating means much less difference in pressure on the tailwheel when the instructor gets out.

Good luck StarbucksOne

robin,
My perspective is that it is different, but not that different. I'll refrain from saying additional fun I can't say that t/d is more fun than flying anything else, just different. For me the incredibly basic and austere nature of the t/d that I fly encouraged confidence in shedding all the pointless gadgets and knickknacks. One even learns that sans radio is a total non event, good job because for an aircraft without the ability to charge on the ground it can be a frequent event.

If you want to have the opportunity to completely turn everything you thought about flying on its head, try a Pitts; that really is an eye opener in more ways than one!!

Cheers, tacpot. I normally don't ramble on quite that much but the Cub got me like that.
I've had a chance to fly one nearer to home recently - I almost bought into it but unfortunately it's not the right time for me for several reasons - anyway I sat in the back this time and it was no less magical, the view all around, no radio and, from the back, not even any instruments to worry about just the feel of the aeroplane.
I'm not lucky enough to have a great deal to compare it with but, in my opinion at least, it deserves its place in the aviation hall of fame.

StarbucksOne - Good luck, you'll love every second.

Hi Pruners,

I may have the opportunity to buy a share in a cub and am really after some advice. I have just recently qualified (2 weeks ago!), and am looking for something cheap and cheerful to do some hour building in... also somehting a little different and interesting. So, the q is, am I taking too much on after 50hrs in a PA28?

Would appreciate thoughts etc.

Ta muchly,

No, you're not taking on too much, get some decent instruction and you'll never look back.

Converted to the Citabria last year. The airport vultures are always well entertained when there's a first time t/d pilot learning how to taxi:\

Came away from the first lesson with sore calf muscles.

You always want to taxi good and slow, but also need enough speed / momentum to get the beast turning where you want it to go. Fast enough, but not too fast takes a bit of learning.

You first need to become very fussy in your favorite spamcan with precisely tracking the centerline on takeoff and landing with zero drift and a proper holdoff.

Do that preparation and your takeoffs and landings will progress quickly.

The other trick is to be quick to catch any deviations with the rudder while they're still small.

And don't forget that every rudder movement on the ground usually calls for a smaller counter-movement not too long after.

Taming the Taildragger Pilot is highly worth reading:
http://www.ameliareid.com/documents/Taming.pdf

I started my tailwheel conversion at Clacton last August,
almost immediatley after I got my PPL licence,well 6.5 hours later .
It took me around 10 hrs over a two week period due to weather to get my tailwheel sign off , I was fortunate to buy a share in a local L4 Cub straight away, and now have around 11 hours on that.
I would say do it as soon as you think you are ready.
It started off seeming almost impossible because of the "massive" control inputs I put in on the ground.
But it does eventually click and then your inputs will be gentle and almost non-existent but non-stop!
Have fun

Lister:)

JAFO,

Superb post. If you haven't done so already, have you thought of publishing it? It might read very well in the PFA mag or one of the other three. You captured the essence of it very well, I thought.

Starbucks, BigAl,

You're definitely not taking on too much at any point. Remember that, until the 152 in the mid-60s (?) ALL basic pilot training was done on tailwheels, from hour 0!

For me it opened up the door to the Pitts, which was always the point, but, unexpectedly, it opened up much more basic and interesting flying that I've enjoyed immensely. I'm not all that interested in the equipment and environment that comes with more advanced aviation. I much prefer the basic, grass-roots, park it under a tree type of flying, low and slow, watching the world go by close up. When you spend enough time in one airplane, you won't need any of the already-basic instruments at all but you learn to fly it viscerally, using all your senses at their peak awareness (course, that's partly true for most airplanes anyway).

I haven't flown anything with a nosewheel in about 8 years and, while it can be interesting and more practical, I don't miss anything about it.

Go for it and at least you can critique the exercise afterward having done it, rather than sit at the front of the door having never gone in (or some kind of metaphor like that).

Pitts2112

Super cubs are great but the best handling are L4 Cubs and they certainly teach energy conservation!

I did my tailwheel differences at Headcorn in the Tiger Club's G-BBYB. It would be overstating it to call it a life-changing experience, but it nearly was - honestly! :)

It is the most delightful aircraft I have ever soloed in. I can't wait to get back to fly it some more. Ultimately, I feel the pull of the challenge of soloing in a Tiger Moth at some point, although I can't believe people actually learned to fly in those things!

I think the Cub is a lesson in 'less-is-more' - including the control inputs! :)

A