Time and again I marvel at perception; What the mind believes about an activity is rarely how the actual experience turns out to be. This was on display again when I flew my first plane last week.
There really isn’t a whole lot to you have to do before you can grab the yoke of a plane. I took a 3 hour classroom session that described the dynamics of flight back in April. I never got around to taking my inaugural flight and had forgotten everything in class – oops. My pre-flight “training” consisted of looking at a national weather website with my flight instructor while he decoded arcane meterlogical script. The website’s secret weather script would read something like “011107 GS20 NW25 11727”…they could’ve just as easily have said “today there are 20 mph gusting winds from the northeast” but I guess that would ruin the allure and mystique of it all. After the weather website decoding example I was given a tour of the airplane hangar. There are some pool tables and a flat screen so that you can hide out from your wife and drink beer pre and post flight. My flight instructor was a nice enough guy but by the end of the tour I couldn’t help openly making cracks about the pilot clubhouse and he decided to rush me into the plane at that point.
“You’re lucky to be the only one to get in the air today” he told me as we fought our way through the wind to get to the plane. TheGirlfriend started gripping her passenger seat tightly even though we hadn’t left the ground yet. My state of the art plane did not have an internal light, so the pilot had to go through the pre-flight checklist with a pen light. I was too excited to be scared, plus it was absolutely frigid outside so we were at least protected by the elements in the tiny plane. It was like being in a Toyota Rav-4 with wings and no lights and no upgrades.
The plane finally starts rumbling down the runway. My instructions are to slowly pull the yoke back once we hit 55 mph. The instructor also has a yoke so he can override any mistakes I make at the wheel that could cause us harm. I am still getting used to my surroundings when he tells me its time to pull up on the yoke so I give it a yank. The plane pops up very easily. When you are in the cockpit of a small plane, you can feel the force of the wind against the wings a lot easier than a commercial plane – it seems so supported and simple to gain altitude there is no concept of being scared of falling – yet.
We get up to 2000 feet before leveling off. Flying is easy and fun at this point. The joy ride quickly ends once we are the recipients of our first wind gust. Flying a plane is no longer fun. Unbeknownst to me and, to the best of my knowledge not relayed during my “extensive” ground school, the yoke has around 3 seconds of delay before it responds to the pilot. When the plane got hit with a sharp gust, it would drop or jump up 20-40 feet depending on how I had my wings. My reflex would be to move the yoke in the other direction. So our flight pattern became
1. gust of wind
2. drop 40 feet
3. scott almost rips yoke out of plane trying to avert the seemingly impending nose dive
4. 3 seconds of terror when the plane doesn’t respond
5. plane jerks up
6. rise 40 feet
7. scott pushes down slightly to avert the herky-jerky rise
8. 3 seconds as I realize yet again that the yoke is on delay
9. plane drops 20 feet
10. TheGirlfriend makes a crack about my piloting
My inability to grasp the yoke delay reminded me of how Charlie Brown keeps trying to kick the football because he can’t remember that Lucy is going to pull the ball. By the time I remembered to be gradual with the yoke my stomach felt nauseous. It wasn’t a nausea that comes from terror, but more like a seasickness nausea or when you go on a fast roller coaster after drinking until 4am nausea. I have flown 3 commercially since my flight lesson last week and I scoff when the flight attendant makes seatbelts required. Turbulence is nothing to me now compared with my wind-swept flight in a Rav-4.
Another spooky moment came when I had to bank a turn away from Chicago. There were no lights to my left because a left banking turn would put me over lake Michigan. It was spooky to turn into this black mist with no depth perception, I had to rely on my gauges. It made it easy to see how JFK Jr could’ve crashed his plane in Cape Cod fog, you literally can’t make out anything when it is dark and over the water. It is similar to when you are going to sleep in a pitch-black room; It feels good but without a point of reference your brain can’t seem to shut off and relax. Of course being tossed around in my Rav-4 I was anything but relaxed already so it didn’t matter much by this time.
I decide I’ve had enough and gladly turn the plane towards the airport. Descending is tricky. Pushing down the yoke lowers the nose of the plane, and then a gust of wind would cause it to lower more than I wanted and I’d feel like I was going to nose dive. Also the winds were coming in strong from an angle, so I was actually flying in diagonally towards the airport, which seems weird. In actuality I was lowering 20 feet at a time and the instructor got impatient and took over. I was all flown out anyways and theGirlfriend was anxious to kiss the ground in thankfulness.
I decided to shelve my potential plans to buy my own plane and become a pilot. The new goal is to buy a share in a plane that comes with its own pilot so I can chill in the back with some vodka tonics and my computer.
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