First,
an apology - I have been very busy finishing a new book, a family saga -
and so haven't blogged for a while. More exciting news about this
later, on my home page.
But at last, here I am
again. I'm taking a break from my stories of life as a real-life
Heartbeat Wife to tell how I came to learn to fly and gain my Private
Pilot's licence. I'm calling it:
INTO THE BLUE
I'd
always wanted to learn to fly. I'd gone on a 'Pleasure Flight' as they
used to be called when on holiday in Scarborough with my sister when I
was in my late teens and absolutely loved it. Before going I was pretty
nervous, especially when we got to the airfield and I saw the size of
the plane - so tiny! with the wings just about the height of my chest.
But the moment we took off I was hooked, loving the sensation of freedom
and the fields cartwheeling under that little tilted wing.
It
was an unfulfilled ambition, though. Until my 50th birthday. Terry,
my husband, kept me in suspense about a "surprise present" until the day
came. We were 'going somewhere', and perhaps he'd better explain as I
might want 'to wear something suitable'. When he told me he had booked
me a trial flying lesson at Bristol airport I was so excited, and even
wondered briefly if the 'something suitable' should be a leather helmet
and long scarf ... well, it was late November ... I settled, however,
for trousers and flatties.
At
Bristol & Wessex Flying Club I was shown the plane I would be
flying - a PA28 - and then given a briefing in a very official looking
office. I must confess I was quite bemused by all the technical terms,
explanations of how a plane actually flies, and so much more. Then my
breezy and cheerful instructor took me on a 'walk round', checking
fuselage, flaps, etc, and installed me in the 'left-hand seat' - in a
plane the captain sits on the left hand side of the cockpit. He climbed
in beside me. Terry, I should mention, was already installed in one of
the two seats behind us. And then we were on the runway and taking
off, the ground gently dropping away beneath us, looking down on
treetops, bouncing a little in the turbulence over the wooded area, then
turning towards the Somerset levels with Cheddar lake sparkling in the
bright sunlight and Glastonbury Tor rising ahead.
My
instructor, Mike, took off, of course, but once we were over open
countryside he invited me to take over. All he wanted me to do was fly
'straight and level' - which is easier said than done when you've never
flown before. The most magical and scariest words I'd ever heard were
'You have control' .... I had control! Jeepers! (Of course, his
helping hand was never far away, otherwise I doubt I'd be here to tell
the tale).
It
lasted a bit less than an hour, that first flight, but I was hooked.
And so was my passenger, Terry .... He'd recently retired from the
police force, and so we made the momentous decision .. we were both
going to take the lessons we needed to get our private pilot's
licences. And what a decision that was! It took over our lives, cost
us a lot of money, meant we had to spend hours and hours poring over the
manuals that taught us about everything from air technical to
meteorology, navigation and air law and the etiquette and jargon needed
to use the radio to talk to air traffic control, and know it all well
enough to pass seven written exams. There were plenty of times when I
wondered what on earth I was doing - such as when I had to set off for
my first solo land-away, or when I thought I was lost over the wilds of
Wales (I wasn't). But we never for one moment regretted it. And I
think gaining my licence is the achievement I am most proud of. Often I
was scared to death, but I did it. (Conversely, Terry relished every
moment). And there were so many adventures along the way!
I'll tell you about some of them soon ....
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Thursday, 9 January 2014
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