..when a big bird takes off on a small runway. And, by ‘big,’ I mean 4000 radial-engine horsepower pulling fifteen tons of 1940’s airplane.
flying
This is what it looks like..
..to take off from a small airstrip in a small town in the largest state on a beautiful springtime day.
Sitting in the pilot’s seat (left): shana, the coolest girl in the whole world.
Sitting in the co-pilot seat (right): heidi, an astoundingly incredible pilot & flight instructor
Sitting in the back seat and enjoying the ride: yours truly
Milestone
I have a little story to tell. It starts just like one my regular summertime days here in fairbanks–I get up around 8, eat a bowl of cereal, brush my teeth, go to the coffee shop to get coffee (surprise, right?), read the comics and get the weather report for my flight lesson, which is usually at 10. The weather looked good. I was excited to go fly–the previous day, I’d done well with my landings and I was eager to do it again. We did pattern work, and sure enough I was landing safely and correctly each time–Forest* didn’t even have to say anything, or touch any of the controls. It felt good. At the end of the lesson Forest says: why don’t you come back at 1:30? We’ll do another lesson. Cool, I thought! If I keep this up, I’ll be able to land really well every time in a week or two, then maybe I’ll be able to solo!
I come back at 1:30, and we do more pattern work. It went well, just like the morning lesson. I was close to getting my landing on target each time, and it felt good. At the end of the lesson, for some reason, Forest asked for plane right after we landed–which is funky, usually he lets me taxi and park. Funky, but ok, I’m sure there’s a good reason. I take my hands and feet off the controls and Forest takes the plane. He fast-taxis (like taxiing, but, well, fast. about 40mph) down the runway, turns on the taxiway, then immediately pulls off the taxiway into some random parking spot. Funky, but ok, I’m sure there’s some reason. Forest pulls out airplane logbook and logs the flight, puts it away, then pulls out my logbook from the behind-the-seat wall pocket and begins to log the flight lesson. Funky, but ok, I’m sure there’s some–oh. Uh. Now he has turned to the back of my logbook and is filling in the student solo-flight forms. Oh. Ohhh. At this point, I say something like “Ummm..Forest..you’ve got my gears turning here..I’m kinda wondering..” and he smirks for a moment, then finishes filling out the form.
“Just keep doing what you’ve been doing. You need three takeoffs and landings–come back and pick me up when you’re done. Don’t forget, you need to call ground to ask to taxi for takeoff. Oh and hang on a second, I need to get my coat. Ok, go have fun.”
And with that, Forest hopped out of the plane, closed the door, and lit a cigarette.
*”Forest,” i.e. Forest Kirst, CFII, is the flight instructor I’ve been learning from. He is outstanding.
She’s a wild thing
Amelia Earhart, you plucky hero you, I am glad that you went out doing what you loved.
Here are a few snippets from her book “The Fun Of It”…
Ruth Nichols always dresses with charm and distinction. Even in the air she is apt to be garbed in her favorite color, which happens to be purple, and she owns a specially made purple leather flying suit and helmet.
Orville is quoted as saying “When the world speaks of the Wrights, it must include our sister. Much of our effort has been inspired by her.” […] Katherine Wright helped pay for and actually helped build the first heavier than air plane ever flown.
Starting from Harbor Grace, Newfoundland, on the afternoon of May 20, 1932, I landed near Londonderry in the north of Ireland the next morning, thirteen and a half hours after the take-off. That, briefly, is the story of my solo flight across the Atlantic. […] By the way, I didn’t bother much about food for myself. The really important thing was fuel for the engine. It drank more than 300 gallons of gasoline. My own trans-Atlantic rations consisted of one can of tomato juice which I punctured and sipped through a straw.
The best day
Well, no, make that ‘2nd best.’ The best will be when that logbook is good and full and the most recent entry is a passed checkride.
Visitors
They are pricey and lack the mind blowing practicality of a 172. but my oh my super cubs are unbelievably cool.
Flying
It would be so much cooler with an engine and wings and cockpit and one of those awesome bush-pilot headsets, but this one time a while ago sneakers-and-shorts-shod on a dock at sunset was good enough.
Brag: this is a self portrait.
Freedom
Flying. Flying; it kindles the imagination, defies lots of things (gravity, namely; but also some common sense), and really captures some part of human nature, doesn’t it? I know I’m not the only one who’s had flying dreams. Even in reality, in a giant plane (I haven’t done skydiving or hangliding yet) where I have essentially no control, in that moment when the plane lifts off and the ground falls away, I cannot help but grin a silly little grin.