Flew every day until I soloed
Two and a half months ago my instructor didn’t show for a Friday morning flying lesson. I sat, I watched some King School videos, and I texted him without a response. He didn’t reply over the weekend nor Monday. On Tuesday he texted:
"Hey I’m still in the hospital, someone hit me on my motorcycle with a car. Let you know when I’m better."
Eventually he got better, big metal rod in his right hand, and never saw his motorcycle again. But I still wasn’t ready to get back in the plane. Work was going well and flying takes time. I knew one thing for sure: when I got back in the plane I was going to fly consistently every day until I was good and competent.
To make that easier I even found some office space at the Palo Alto airport where I flew. Cheap at $300 a month and adjacent to a friend who wasn’t a pilot; he just wanted some office space to work. But I still didn’t get back in the plane.
Then my instructor sent me an email tell me he was leaving me.
Two weeks ago on June 19 my instructor Cam Dupre emailed me saying he was moving back to Boston in a month. Did I want to fly before then and then transfer to another instructor?
We flew that afternoon. We then flew every day except two - one rare miserable weather day and once to finish the pre-written solo exam.
Each day was only an hour or so in the air. Mostly local circuits. Take offs, basic traffic pattern and landings. It was not linear progression. I did not get better and betterer each day. For a few days I seemed to forget how to land.
A week ago I had a great day - we flew in the evening and again later at night. The winds die off, the busy traffic around Palo Alto goes away, and I definitely landed the plane without Cam’s assistance. Daytime and night time. It was a fantastic day. But then I started trying other planes and taking longer flights.
The next day, a Saturday, we took a Cessna 182 on a tour of San Francisco with my parents in the back. It was a substantially more complex plane - propeller controls, twin Garmin 1000 with dozens of new knobs to press. The next day another plane. Cessna 172S, again with G1000, and landings at Monterey and Watsonville with my wife flying in the back for the first time. But on return to Palo Alto my landing didn’t go well.
Monday had rough landings too. It was as if I couldn’t remember all the little things to do. I couldn’t remember to watch the big 31 on the runway to see if it was creeping up or down the windscreen.
I couldn’t remember to make the correct small adjustments “on final" (the flying downwards to the runway) that made my “energy" better. I’d be too high and too fast. I’d be too low and too slow.
But I started learning new things. I learnt about the pattern of checks and changes before taking off and after landing. I got confident talking to ATC (air traffic control). I got confident being in the plane. I was the pilot. Yet I couldn’t land the damn plane without Cam feeling the need to intervene.
And yet yesterday, Friday June 28, I flew solo for the first time. We flew in the early evening when the winds were low, the winds were straight down the runway, and the tower and I were mostly the only ones on the frequency.
I’ve wanted to fly a plane since I was a teenager watching Top Gun. At 38 years old I have now satisfied one question I’ve had for over 20 years: what is the magic trick that gets the plane from up there to down here?
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