Solo Cross-country, all alone and loving it!

There are two big deals in any pilot's initial training. The first is when your instructor trusts your ability to put the aircraft down at your home airport. I did that yesterday morning with 12.1 hours of instruction. Now I've got 12.6 hours and Sherman cut me loose on my solo cross-country.
The requirement is that you go on a minimum of 75 mile roundtrip and land at an airport that's not home base. it is the culmination of everything you've been taught. You must plan and execute the entire package, the instructor has to approve your plan and sign-off your student certificate and logbook that you're allowed to take the plane to the chosen airport(s) and return. You have to prove that you and the airplane are capable of safely completing the trip. That includes the weather, fuel, time-of-day (I can't fly at night by law), and communications.
My plan was a bit more ambitious. I wanted to leave Sarasota and go to Venice, which is like a second home now, and then go to Punta Gorda (Charlotte county). I'd done a low pass there.
The timing and fuel worked well. I figured it as a fuel usage of 3.5 gallons for 100.5 miles. And around an hour or so. Since I had to be back at SRQ before civil twilight at 2008 I knew that with the fudge factors thrown in, the latest I wanted to be off was around 1745. That would get me back at a reasonable 1915 with plenty of daylight left.
We briefed with Sherman, reviewed the routing, fueled and did a good preflight. I got off in good order at 1727 and enjoyed the view at 1600 feet. My nav log was working out well and my checkpoints were doing fine. The wind was a little stronger than predicted so ground speed stayed near 100 mph. Okay it was going to be slower, but not much.
I went toward Venice and about 8 miles out tuned the radio. To the wrong frequency. Nobody was talking to 199RE. Odd. Checked the frequency on the chart, and then corrected the radio. Still nobody in the Venice pattern was talking. I didn't see anybody, but still wanted to know the radio worked, so I called the FBO and asked which runway they were using. Nice lady told me what I already knew, that 31 was it. The little airplane on the segmented circle looked right, so I called traffic and went in. For some reason, I turned in early and let my speed stay up, so I was high and fast. Even though it's a fine, long runway, I chose not to use my extraordinary skills, and called for a go-around. The pattern was still very empty, but I'm yakking away letting all the 747's and Airbus's know that I was taking a Light Sport Remos into 31 at Venice, dammit!
Turned to Base and Final and this time it looked real good. Nobody talking in the pattern, and nobody in sight. Way too good to be true. Let down to the flare and shifted my gaze to the far end of the runway. Now I'm flying the Remos 3 feet off the ground and I see a pretty, yellow, 65 horsepower Piper Cub sauntering in to land on runway 13. My runway from the other end. I yell in the radio "aircraft on opposite end of 31" and he slowly turns to enter the crosswind and come around to my end of the runway. Looking back at it, he really wasn't that low.
I finished my ,now ugly landing, slowed to a taxi and took back off muttering to myself, "I'll bet that's one of those idiots from the flight school down here!" So I turn into the pattern and determine to watch him land and if its a blue airplane with yellow wings, I'm gonna call his instructor and chew the guy out.
Wrong! He turns to final and I figure it out. He's justa really pretty J-3 Cub that probably has the doors open, wind in his teeth and no radio at all. No problem, but I wish he had swung out to sea like I did to avoid low flight at the end of a runway. But, all in all, no problem. Even if he had landed, I had enough performance at hand to avoid him.
On to Punta Gorda! I'm listening to the weather down there and trying to visualize the traffic pattern when I think, "Man, I remember what it looks like, but a picture would be oh-so nice. Wait! I've got one in my flight bag strapped here beside me!"
Then I re-learn how nice an autopilot, or right-seat slave would have been.
Trying to fly with the left hand and monkey with the zipper, and rummage through the bag with the other hand, is distracting. Next time I'll organize better with the bag.
Got the directory out and was looking for a runway to choose, when I heard a guy announce he was ready on runway 4. That answered my needs, so I put the directory away, and announced the wide body Remos was entering the pattern. Checked the wind by reference to ripples in all the ponds down there and flew a decent pattern, but turned in too close. Another low altitude tour of the airport. Climbed back to the pattern and talked my way around for another go. A guy in a Mooney squeezed in and took off, but he talked to me and it wasn't an issue.
This time I crabbed in really pretty and kicked her straight for a very credible landing. I love it when the centerline stays between the wheels!
Off to Sarasota.
Nice low sun angle off the Gulf really gave good contrast to the shoreline and a couple of high-altitude stratus clouds made pretty sun-dogs way up high. We got to 2000 feet with no problem and I backed off from 120 mph to smooth the ride out. This was living! Watching the world slide under the nose, ticking off the waypoints, and watching Lake Myakka swim out of the haze.
Looking around I thought, "Ya know...If I wasn't doing this student solo thing, I'd deviate west. I don't like being in the middle of this swamp!" Really! I thought that if the noise maker quit, I'd have to glide in and fight the gators. But the Rotax kept percolating on.
At the right distance, I called Tampa and warned them that I, steely-eyed aviator man, was going to land at my airport. They submitted and told me to keep my speed up and expect straight-in runway 32. So I didn't change a damn thing. Kept right on in my comfortable cruise and headed for 32.
Shortly after I could spot the airport, they turned me over to the tower controller, who promptly ordered me to keep my speed up. See above for hurried reaction. He also told to "continue" for 32.
Now "continue" is just the controller dude leaving himself an out at my expense. It was not a clearance to land, and I couldn't break off the approach either. So I kept going and let down since the runway was in sight. Now my speed is up to 120 mph, I'm happy, but the runway is getting too big, too quick.
Finally about a mile and a half out, I key the radio and squawk, "Tower, Remos 9RE is a STUDENT PILOT! AM I CLEARED TO LAND 32?"
Now a female controller comes on and clears me to land. AHA! Shift change!
I pull the throttle all the way back to idle, and slow to approach speed.
This was one slick landing. the centerline and markings were like railroad tracks, and the nose stayed up as I slowly pulled the stick to my crotch and the airplane slowed. At 35 mph the nose eased down and we're a ground vehicle again!
Tower lady in my ear asking me to turn at A7, which is right where I am!
I push the brakes on and made a better than ninety-degree swing to A7 and clear the active.
I'm talking to the ground controller and whoosh! An AirTransvestite MD-80 comes by on 32. That's why the wanted my speed up!
He lands, I taxi, no problem. Except that now he's on MY taxiway and I'm between him and the terminal. I hold at 22 for a Cirrus to takeoff and then Ground lady asks me to take the first Dolphin Aviation entrance. Hey!.... Priority Handling!
Swoop in to Dolphin and the Trannie passes well behind me.
Stop, note the times and push the cute little thing into her spot. Called Micky. Then my phone rings. It's Sherman. We talk about the fun times and the two go-arounds, the Cub on touchdown, and what a great thing this flying stuff is!
Dropped off the key and log and drove away for my redhead wife and big,fat motorhome.
Lessons learned, juggling books and stuff alone in a cockpit requires forethought, guys without radios fly too, and ATC wants stuff for a reason sometimes.
I'm ready to go again!