FLYING BACK IN TIME

Like a magnet attracts iron my eyes are pulled skyward when I hear the distant droning of an aircraft engine as it passes overhead.  My thoughts are drawn back into the past as I recall the trips, adventures and marvelous sights I experienced over my years as a pilot.  The challenge of planning flights, dealing with navigation, prognosticating the weather and communicating with ATC (Air Traffic Control) was a source of unexplainable euphoria.  

 

In the summer there is something about weaving your way through columns of cumulus clouds as you watch the warm moist air condense into snow-white cotton balls as it rises above the dew point.  

 

I can’t explain the peaceful joy of cruising the winter skies in flawless smooth air with the steely blue extending into outer space.   

 

There is nothing like the feeling of a silk smooth landing.  I always preferred to credit it to skill rather than luck. 

 

Flying was a hobby but a hobby like a cancer that I could not cure.  Getting the ratings: private, instrument, commercial, instructor, floatplane, multi-engine, and aircraft mechanic was all consuming.

 

The floatplane license in Alaska was an incredible experience.  I had a hard time concentrating on the flying for all the amazing scenery; crystal clear lakes rugged mountain cliffs and pristine forests cluttered with wild life.  

 

Moose Pass, Alaska

I enjoyed instructing students.  Getting the student to land the plane without killing us was the ultimate accomplishment.  The challenge of sitting on my hands and telling them what to do and when to do it was more fun than actually doing it myself.

 

They say flying is hours of mind numbing boredom punctuated by moments of stark terror.  Those moments, those “Never Again” lessons, those mistakes are learning experiences, but small mistakes can be fatal in aviation. The more I learned the more I realized how much I didn’t know.

 

I had the privilege of logging something north of 4000 hours without killing myself or anyone else.  I loved ever minute of it, all 240,000 minutes of it, but it was time to quit.

 

I’m old and gray, I look to the sky

Where eagles soar and angels fly

I have to thank the Lord above

Who kept me safe in all His Love.

Amen.

 

Nashville, TN

My 1st Airplane, C-150

Fort Yukon, Alaska