Why do we love to fly?

Last evening we were at another couple's house and the wife who knows I am/was a pilot asked me why I loved flying so much.  My wife chimed in and said, "Don't ask him.  He can't explain it."

She's right.  Those of us who love flying can't put it into words.  We can come close, but that's it.  We can only come close.  Which is why I have to smile when I hear simulator pilots who have never flown a real airplane talk about 'immersion'.  Or argue about which simulator comes closest to real flying.  None of them actually do because real flying isn't about smoothness or air traffic control or flight models or frame rates.  It's something else.

It starts with your first solo when the fear side of the balance slightly outweighs the elation side of the balance.

When my instructor  stepped out of the Luscombe and told me not to cut the engine and opened the door and stepped onto the dock and told me to give him three circuits my heart was in my mouth.  He closed the door and pushed me back out into the water.  I was frightened and elated at the same time.  This was it.  I was going to become a pilot.

I taxied out to the channel, headed into the wind, pushed the throttle forward, accelerated until I was on the step, eased the stick back, and lifted off the water.  I had just become a pilot.  And I don't think any of us who treasure that moment in their lives can ever put it into words.

I climbed out toward Angel Island.  Turned east around Tiburon Peninsula.  Then back north on the back side of the peninsula until I reached saddle, turning west an cutting back on the throttle.  Turning final from the crosswind and cutting the throttle.  Actually laughing when the floats touched Richardson bay.  I repeated it two more times before taxiing (sailing) to the dock where my instructor grabbed the strut, signaled me to cut the engine, tied down the aircraft and opened the door.  I don't know who had the biggest grin on his face, my instructor or myself.  In the FBO I got my shirt tail cut off and pinned on the wall and we celebrated with a can of beer.  I was euphoric all the way home.  That was 63 years ago.

I have forgotten anniversaries, birthdays, what I felt like when my children were born, how I felt when I got orders to come home from an overseas war zone, getting my first driver's license, starting a new job, or going on vacation.  But I have never forgotten a single minute of my first solo.

When I lived in Utah and was going for my commercial every Friday I would take one of my four children out to dinner.  Then we go fly.  So they each got to fly with me once a month.  My longest cross country was when I flew my four children to Grandma's house in California from Ogden Utah in a Cherokee 180.  We stopped in Reno to refuel.  I took off from Reno and flew south until was clear of the traffic area and circled until I had enough altitude to clear the mountains to the west.  I turned west, crossed Lake Tahoe, crossed the crest of the Sierras, and then coasted downhill all the way to Gnoss Field in Novato where my brother picked us up.

I am at a loss to tell a non-pilot what it feels like to fly.  But John Gillespie McGee Jr. comes close in High Flight.  The first and last lines of his poem come pretty close, "Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth...….Reached out my hand, and touched the face of God."

If, per chance, you have not read that poem find it and read it.

I once read an article in a magazine where an Air Force B-52 driver was going through a periodic check ride.  The check pilot was nit picking and riding him pretty hard, questioning everything he was doing.  During a lull the pilot was gazing out the side window.  The check pilot asked, "What are you doing now?"  The B-52 driver said, "Looking at the clouds...how does that grab you?"  The B-52 driver loved flying.

Noel

24 minutes ago, birdguy said:

Which is why I have to smile when I hear simulator pilots who have never flown a real airplane talk about 'immersion'.

Truer words were never spoken Noel. My first time alone was a little over 60 years ago also. In fact, if you had gone south and I had gone north we could have meet in the middle somewhere for a cup of coffee. As you were circling the Bay I was going south from KMRY down the coast to Big Sur. I remember my instructor telling me there were two really enjoyable firsts in life that we'll never forget. One of them was the first solo flight...........

So true.....  Ahhh the memories....

 

1984 When my instructor told me to pull over to the base of the tower KFUL and she got out, Said "it's all yours, I'll be in the tower if you need me". I taxied, Lined up,  i started my roll, i started shaking! Once are born, i was SHAKING! A great day!! Like you said,

you may forget a lot of things but that day is not one of them....  Thanks for sharing...

 

Some of my wall in my aviation/planning room...

5 hours ago, W2DR said:

In fact, if you had gone south and I had gone north we could have meet in the middle somewhere for a cup of coffee.

Half Moon Bay...

Noel

And had we done it on a Saturday we could have stuck around for the drag races that night.Those were the days. Sigh.....

I've never gone solo... yet.. however, piloting a glider (sailplane) with a guy in the back to keep me alive... great memories. Soaring along the ridge, looking out for birds as well as generally, to hopefully give away a visual sign of a thermal... flying along just under the cloudbase to maintain VFR, have to use a bit of airbrake to arrest the ascent rate... surreal views.. managing some winch launches and some landings myself with no physical or verbal input from the instructor.. 🍻

..and the best one.. not caring if the engine quit 

Great stuff gents! Yes, first solo is still very vivid. Countless circuits before the instructor gets out and says “it is all yours, go fly another circuit”. And memories of ferrying my plane across the Rocky Mountains to my home  base in Brantford (CYFD). Every time I go flying, I can hardly wait to line up, push the throttle, slight back pressure on the stick and away we go. And to be honest, I love the thrill of landing almost as much as the takeoff. Cheers and blue skies!

1 hour ago, HighBypass said:

piloting a glider (sailplane) with a guy in the back to keep me alive... great memories.

I was going for a sailplane rating when my FAA medical expired.  That was about 10 years ago...maybe a little more.  I went to renew my medical and failed.  I had glaucoma and too much of a hearing loss to get it renewed.

My tows were always winch towns.  I never soloed but the duals I had were magnificent flights.  I was on the verge of soloing when I lost my medical.

As for engine failure...a winch engine failure before you have enough altitude to return to the strip can be dangerous.

Noel

Well E-ds beat me to it. This was my answer...

 

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, – and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of – wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air…

Up, up the long, delirious burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or ever eagle flew –
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

 

Back in the olden days of television when there were only three or four channels and they signed off at midnight one station I used to watch signed off with a video of the Thunderbirds with someone reciting High Flight.  I used to stay up just to watch it.

Noel

I think @Chock alluded to some footnotes to this great poem:

http://www.b737.org.uk/flyingsong.htm 

.. and it appears there's a version for the F-4 Phantom II pilot (Vietnam era) also:

Oh! I’ve slipped through the swirling clouds of dust,
a few feet from the dirt.
I’ve flown the Camel low enough
to make my bottom hurt.
I’ve TFO’ed the deserts,
hills, valleys and mountains, too.
Frolicked in the trees
where only flying squirrels flew;
chased a frightened cow along,
disturbed the ram and ewe,
and done a hundred other things
that you’d not care to do.
I’ve smacked the tiny sparrow, bluebird, robin, all the rest,
I’ve ingested baby eaglets,
simply sucked them from their nests!
I’ve streaked through total darkness,
just the guy in back and me,
and spent the night in terror
of things I could not see.
I’ve turned my eyes to heaven as I sweated through the flight,
put out my Nomex’ed hand and touched
the Master Caution light.

🍻

7 hours ago, birdguy said:

My tows were always winch tows

Mine too. I never experienced an aerotow - winch only at the local gliding club.

Almost hidden in a corner of the US Air Force Museum in Dayton is a copy of High Flight.  Press a button and you can hear a recording of his mother reciting it.

Noel

Edited October 13, 20205 yr by birdguy

This is the sign off i remember back in the day.......

 

 

 

I never saw that at signoff time, but fondly remember stations playing the National Anthem with the flag waving on the screen.

Buffalo, NY sign off, Canadian Anthem followed by the American Anthem:

 

That's a treasure Ed.  

Noel