Abandoned

Why do people go away? Why they don't care to lose someone? I have always wondered, how is it possible, to let someone go, with no explanation, no fighting. And have always wanted to meet someone who will not let me go. Too much to wish for? With many people for sure.

A friend, an instructor, and so much more... he will never know how much more. He will never care. And because of that I will never care to tell him. He left, I brought him back. But only the physical him. Or perhaps only the face and voice of someone who perhaps exists, perhaps is only my imagination. I brought back some part of him, some vague notion of him, but he was gone forever. In my foolishness or happiness of that fake comeback I didn't notice, he wasn't really there. Up until the moment when he crashed me with more power than anytime before. And then, I decided to leave. And he let me. Just let me.
That's when I understood he has never came back.

So I'm instructorless. Friendless. Somuchmoreless. Or maybe finally... free.

Flying is so much more. Flying cannot be a relationship of more than the pilot and the plane.

So after two years of being grounded because of treating flying like a threesome, I'm looking for a new relationship, just the two of us. The plane and me. The air, the turns, the taking off, the landing...

I'm looking for a new instructor. Who will care to guide me through the license, not just through the most amazing spinning and... a crash.

Does anybody know someone reliable?

Yes, I am still flying!

I really cannot explain what happened that I was silent for such along while. I was flying, I am flying, I will never stop. I just sometimes, stop writing.

So after that September flying so many classes still happened. Well, actually, not that many as my dear instructor has been extremely busy in the last months and it's hard to get a lesson. But when I get a lesson... when I get a lesson! The only words that come to my mind how to compare what I'm feeling are.... "it's like I'm flying!" And isn't it ironies. After all, I am exactly doing that.
And here, I recall my very first time on a plane. Was it an embraer? I think so. I think it was my first flight form Katowitz to Frankfurt. My first trip overseas from Europe. A trip that brought me here and where I stayed. I remember when we took off, I felt it. When I saw the clouds and felt like I want to go out and walk on them! And then I thought: now, I understand why people use these words associated with sky and flying as an indication of something absolutely fantastic. IT IS absolutely fantastic.

But back to the facts, learned things, and so on.

So I am just about to have my first solo. Learning how to land perfectly didn't tire me at all. I still don't understand how can you get tired of anything done in the plane. Seriously. But my landings weren't anywhere near perfect for a long time. I wasn't tired of it, I was just concerned what a moron I must be that it takes me so long. And then, my genius instructor (yes, I completely adore him) decided to do an interesting trick with me: "come as close to the runway as possible, but try not to land as long as possible". The effect? A very nice flare and touch down. I finally started doing it someway close to right!

After perfectioning my "not landing", we started to land. Not bad. Better and better. Until this one absolutely perfect, amazing landing that I had in my very last class: it happened out of nowhere. I was just flying the pattern, in Grandma, the old plane from Guntley, but we practiced it over Burlington. We chatted with my instructor about parties and what not, when I did a very nice, as he said, pattern and came down to sit that old baby down. When I landed, we were both shocked. It was absolutely PERFECT. My instructor started to clap his hands and asked me: "Did you see how perfect it was??" I asked him three more times if he really didn't help me a bit. He swears he didn't.

In the last several classes, we are also practicing steep turns. I feel so much more comfortable after these, but the real deal breaker were "crazy eights", a great invention of my instructor, of course. As you have never heard about crazy 8s, let me explain. As much as I can remember, as it was about three months ago. So you go very steep up and then make a 60 degree turn, until you reach one quarter of the full around turn, even out, turn again, even out, turn again and so on. Awesome!! A little aerobatics in Cessna, always fun! In the first moment I got a little scared, it was quite violent as for that poor Grandma. But in the next few seconds I remembered my aerobatic flying and started laughing at myself inside. After all the loops, 7 Gs, rolls and snap rolls am I really seriously afraid of some bigger turn? - I asked myself. That's how I started doing it and it wasn't that bad. After a few turns, I started to really like it!

Stalls still seemed a little difficult for me. Not really scary, no. More, I couldn't really understand what is exactly happening to the plane during stall. I got down all the theory but I just didn't see it. Coming out of a stall wasn't clear either. I do everything what my instructor says, I understand what to do. But I.. don't really "see" what I'm doing. Maybe it's normal. Maybe it's my girly "blindness" for these sorts of things, maybe I just need more time... It's a little better now, but I definitely must practice stalls more.

The best is still... spinning. Yes, I know, I am sick. There is something wrong with me. But I truly, seriously LOVE spins. It just feels so awesomely awesome. It probably took its beginning in my eternal love for carousels...
I surely have to practice coming out of a spin many many times. I also have to understand (I still cannot) that it is an extremely dangerous thing and not to play with. That part will be probably the hardest as I truly find it as one of the most fun things in flying.
When I got the maneuver right, when I got it pretty much down, I asked my instructor if this is really all what it's to it. He confirmed and I'm still shocked that something so easy is creating such an amazing fear among student pilots and even pilots. Maybe it's my recklessness and my lack of the feeling how dangerous is actually a spin. But I just can't understand why FAA stopped requiring it and why it's seen the way it's seen. Such an easy and simple maneuver. Seriously.

And that's about it what happened in those months. I haven't flown in two months and my heart is split in half. I fly in my mind all the time, I did get some weird looks while flying to Europe and back and admiring the plane - well, let's just say in a slightly different way than people usually do. I read a lot on a plane, I watched Sporty's lessons. I got overwhelmed with the weather and I go crazy with counting the weight vs. moment. I also practice for the theoretical exam, this way, I've noticed, I learn a lot. But I miss Machado and will be getting back to his colorful book very soon.

I still wonder about theory vs. practice and the order of those. I am absolutely under the influence and control of my instructor and well, I trust him my life. So I will repeat it over and over, even if I have to fight with different opinions from every possible corner: there is a method in my instructor's craziness. Maybe I'm just an inductive learner, but I've read Machado before and didn't really understand much. When I learned all the basics through flying, through practice, it is so much easier for me to understand the theory behind it. Now, whatever I read, I start really getting it. It makes sense, but only because I already "feel" it. I know how it feels to get the baby up and how it behaves when I go too steep. I know how it feels climb the right way. I feel it. And when I read about why it feels this or this way - it makes a good sense. But I could I bring the plane to the right climb only by the theory? Because I knew this and that? I don't think so. Maybe it's me, maybe I'm a "feeler". But it works for me. And I like it. Learning by doing, as my instructor says over and over again.

So when is my next flight? Hard to say. My instructor is in jet lag now... and the weather isn't very flyable in Illinois and Wisconsin. But it cannot be much longer anymore, I know it.

After all, it will be my first

solo.

Sailing and flying

I wonder how it works, maybe it's just me. But when I don't dedicate a whole day towards flying, there is something missing. As if there would need to be a certain ceremony of a flying lesson. As if one or a little bit more than one hour wouldn't be enough.

I arrived at the airport from hours of sailing. Greeted Princess who was still warm from previous flying, and sat inside. I still felt like on the boat and couldn't really feel the rhythm. But there I was, in my Princess, again, in the one that I missed so much. There I was and it made me so happy again. "I missed you, little girl" I whispered so that my instructor couldn't hear. He would think I'm crazy talking to the airplane. I put on my headset and... flew. Nothing new, nothing unusual, the same old beloved routine. Well, ok, not that old, after all I did it just like a ten times. It's nothing. But even though, it feels as if I did it all my life. As if I was meant to do that all my life.

The first landing was really nice. I sat Princess nice and slow.

The second approach.... turned out to be learning how to get up from a failed approach... But I was very happy to learn it, actually.

Every next landing was done but crummy, heavily, and so on. Nothing pretty, Princess hurting, me not very happy as I still couldn't get close enough, low enough, slow enough or most of all - I never landed on the number that was supposed to be my destination.

And?
That wasn't my day, that's all. I felt distracted, worried, somehow I wasn't really there, not all of me at least. And I think I should plan it better, prepare better, celebrate it more. Dedicate a day for flying.


After all, it's always worth it.

Aviation Day

I just left the doctor's office with my brand new shiny medical certification third class and student pilot certification. A little disappointed that it's such a small piece of paper but the name, still, makes me wear a smile from one ear to another. So now, I can officially have my first solo flight. Ba! I can actually fly solo. Technically, legally, not that I really know how to do it.

I decided to call my parents but didn't tell them about the visit and certificate. After all, they are not very happy about my "crazy" new idea. But when they told me that today is actually Aviation Day in Poland, I couldn't be silent anymore.

In moment like that, I am even more sure, that I was supposed to go this road from the very beginning.

Yesterday, on the other hand, two beautiful planes. I know I know seeing planes in the air - what's a big deal! But for me, it's even better than before. I always had this tendency to stop, wherever I was going, and stare at the planes in the sky. I couldn't ignore one. One could think - when you start flying, once it becomes a real thing and not an impossible dream anymore, you don't get so excited when seeing a plane in the sky.

It so doesn't apply to me.

One was a little airplane, I don't know what kind. It had beautiful wings, very wide, all the way to the wing tips. It was like one of the oldies, even width of the wing like in a biplane. Breath taking. It was flying above me so pretty.

A few miles later I saw a six person beach craft or something similar. Doing a pattern!! A pattern!! Coming from the downwind to the base leg and then to the final approach. I followed the turns, imagined I set the flaps on 10, then on 20, then on 30, reduce the speed, lower the nose (lower the nose! lower the nose!) and sit softly and smoothly, just like a pretty thing like that deserves.

All that while driving my car, not very straight...

And that longing for flying started o scream even stronger. It's really strange and I myself can't believe it, still. Even if I read so much about it, even I know so well Exupery and Bach, I still can't believe I actually feel physical pain of longing. Just like with love, when the desire to see this other person seems to be tearing us apart - just so with flying, being grounded hurts. Literary hurts. And every airplane gliding through the sky reminds us about the suppressed longing just like seeing an alter ego of someone we are crazy about.

So that's why I went to the doctor today. And I chose one who is a pilot himself. How could I chose one who isn't a pilot! And the moment I saw him, I had this huge smile on my face, this banana smile that doesn't leave me from the moment I get to the car when driving to the airport. Because I knew, he is one of us, I saw it right away. And he knew what I feel. I he knew what language to speak. And we both spoke Loveflyish.

How awesome it is to meet thee people. How awesome to talk to them. To be with them. To understand each other on the level that nobody from the outside will ever understand. To listen to them and hear the wind bending on the wing. To talk to them and sound like humming around the plane's tail. To make gestures similar to touching the yolk, pressing on the rudder, let the flaps go down. And walking like sitting the airfoils on the runway.


How amazingly awesome it is.

One potato, two potatoes, three potatoes, four...

I read once somewhere that if we really want something, the whole universe gets together all the energy  and helps us achieve that.

It didn't seem so when I arrived at the airport on Thursday. The clouds were coming down, the sky was becoming darker and darker and I was sure - I will be driving back home with a taste of the sky only in my mind.
But how could I forget whom I have for an instructor?

Making a complete fool of myself, I asked him if we are able to fly. He looked at me strangely as if I were asking if the sky is up. He also ignored the first drops falling on our heads. So I greeted sweetly Princess Cessna, ask her to be gentle with me and pulled her out into the rainy air.

"Ready?" Asked my instructor.
"Ready!"

We drove to the runway and I did the preflight check. Wondered why airplanes like that don't have the wipers.
"We don't need them when we fly" my instructor said. I was happy the runway was so wide.

When I took Princess into the air, I had again that goofy banana smile on my face. So simple. Such a little thing (or is it really little?) can make me happy like nothing in the world.

I did the pattern but it didn't go very well, a lot of "too muchs" and "too fars". But what are second chances for - I thought and brought that baby up again. I love take offs. I just completely and absolutely love them.

Another pattern and I sat Princess on the ground in a pretty nice way. Happiness. I really start to be able to do that. The rain was stronger and stronger but my instructor didn't give up. "Let's go let's go", he yelled and the beauty of the start again.
By the end of the downwind the clouds came down to us and hugged us tightly. The Princess started shaking and basically did what she wanted to. A difficult conversation.
"Turn turn! Let's go! Faster faster!" my instructor jumped on the seat out of joy. I remembered how I loved my first experienced turbulences in a big jet and I was wondering, if I ever get to the point of being an aerobatic flier like this crazy man who had my life in his hands.
I gave him the yolk and allowed myself to be lazy at this point. Small steps. At some point, I hope, I will be able to land in a weather like this with no problems.

When the rain went away, we jumped into the Princess again and started the pattern. It worked!! Landing after landing, I couldn't believe, I am actually doing this! They were some hard landings and by one the GPS turned off but one I was especially proud of. And the "good job" made me feel so good.

After a little more than two weeks, when I thought I would never learn this, I came to the point when I landed 5 out of 9 times. And today, I opened "Flight Training" magazine and I read:

You're in the pattern today. Again. It seems like it's been a month since you went out and did anything else with an airplane, and probably a few weeks since you had any fun. [Is it even possible, to NOT have fun in an airplane??] At first, it felt good to finally get a chance to sink your teeth into some real landing practice. But now? Well, let's just say that your landings feel like one barely controlled crash after another, and they are hardly advancing your Top Gun dreams. /Rebecca Gibson/

So good to know I am not alone. But I will ace it and one day, I will laugh at all those problems with holding the plane pointed to the runway or keeping it right above it rather than next to it.

And after the start with the rain I see the universe's point. It's not always about the beautiful weather. Sometimes, it's all about seeing that the beauty is in learning how to turn a catastrophe to a bliss, just like Zorba did. And now I actually think, that flying in the rain is even better

than dancing in it.

My First Landing

I did it! I did it! I did it! After almost nine hours of training (where one hour was more like a presentation though), and after nearly 40 landings, I finally got it! It wasn't pretty, but I sat this baby on the ground. Funny, how take-offs and landings are still my favorite things in flying. Maybe because take-offs are always new fascinating beginnings, invitations to new adventures, and landings... well, landings have double-meaning... You need to land in order to take off, that's for sure. And second... it's always so nice to come back to the daisies.

So I finally was able to hold the bird more stable. No sudden movements, just very very gently, gliding through the wind. I still have lots of problems with the rudder. I seem to have difficulty with feeling it. I have an impression I step on it pretty decent, when my instructor screams: right rudder, press the rudder! And I wonder, why is he screaming when I thought I was doing such a good job on the rudder. And then, I wonder, if I pressed it at all. Rudder in a glider requires more pressure, it's easier, because you can feel it better. Here, it's a more sophisticated gentle touch.
Well, this skill too is on its way to me.

Pattern almost good. I'm not sure about the distance from the actual airport but maybe it's not the worst.

And the unhappy trim. Still cannot get the feeling. In the air, it isn't so bad but when I try to land - nto good, not good at all.

Next time: more landings.

My instructor is insane and wants me to fly solo very soon. Very insane. But... the funny things is, that I am starting to actually dream about it...

Airborn

Where does our true nature start? Did I always know that flying is a part of my life? Was that what I was missing all the time?

Sometimes, we squeeze our dreams in little pockets of impossibilities simply because the world taught us to give up on difficult dreams and not to get silly with wanting to dare the impossibilities at all. And so we live wit our biggest dreams in these pockets and never let them out, believing they really are impossible to realize. 

That is, until one seemingly regular Saturday, when a friend takes us to see our dreams floating in the air and begging us to catch them and never let them go.

I was always crazy about airplanes. Biplanes the most. Fell in love with Exupery's writings about flying and I just knew, it must be one of the most amazing feeling in the world, to fly. What I didn't know then was that it was THE most amazing thing in the world. 

When I met T. I thought he is just crazy about flying like I, like many people I met, but he put this fascination to the little pocket of impossibilities. Up until he told me he was taking flying lessons. It still seemed abstract to me and I didn't really understand what that meant. I never thought I could actually also take flying lessons, although admired everyone who did. Way too expensive and this pocket... When you believe something is impossible, not for you, it's extremely hard to get rid of that belief. 

And then, T. took me to see aerobatic training of his flying instructor and said there is a slight chance I could experience a flight in a small Cessna. I didn't believe it really and wasn't sure if I want it at all. In my pocket world, I was completely satisfied with watching someone flying. 

But then, I was put into this plane. And I was taken up. 

And my life was never the same anymore.

I still didn't believe I could actually pursue a license but I knew I wanted to fly again. Suddenly, everything started to come together to a perfect equation: I somehow came across Richard Bach and his books enchanted me completely. T. pushed me to get a pilot's logbook and after visiting the magic aviation store, I knew, that was it. 

I was going to fly. 

After seven hours of flying lessons, I still cannot really land. But that's OK, that too is on its way to me. What I know and what I can't believe I was pushing back for such a long time is that my life means something else now, that my life is now defined around flying. 

On that amazing Saturday, I was born again. 

Air-born.