4. First Solo
I was trying to think of something to say to keep him from leaving but all I could say was “uuuuh, what?” I knew that soon this day would come, but I suddenly felt not ready. I can still feel the quiet depths of solitude hanging on to the click of the door latching after Richard. I sat there in the left seat, the weight of summoning my own confidence settling on my shoulders, and the gravity of it all was enough to break my heart and forge it back together simultaneously. Time seemed to screech to a stop in that moment of pause as the comprehension sank in, the roar of the propeller like a waterfall, rushing and motionless all at once, only the sound of my own breath registering through the headsets. Every imaginable disaster raced through my head as my mind reeled in fear. I took a deep breath. No, I thought to myself, pushing those thoughts away. Richard thinks I can do this, I can do this, just like when he is in the airplane with me. In a way, I’ve been preparing for this moment my whole life. I never asked for it, but life has many times thrown me challenges that necessitated finding my way alone. Going solo is so hard sometimes, but I will prevail. Even though I am filled with that familiar self-doubt, I succeed. This is my moment. This is what I was made for. I am beyond ready.
I took another deep breath and pressed the throttle in, Romeo’s 230 HP growling the propeller into action, the wheels rolling us up the taxiway. Pausing at the hold short, I ran through my checklist and pressed the radio to transmit with voice shaking but my hands steady on the yoke. “Stevensville Traffic. Skylane One Eight Two Romeo Whiskey. Taking off runway three zero. Staying in the pattern. This is my first solo flight. Stevensville traffic.” I could hear Kurt in my head “look for traffic, keep looking outside…right rudder, more right rudder.” I could hear Richard “Romeo has some power and is going to take off like a rocket with just you in there, be ready.” They weren’t with me now, but they were there in spirit. I drew them all in. “Fly Kelli Girl, you are the REAL Superwoman,” Mom said. Ryan: “When you are sitting down, as often as you can, daydream it. Close your eyes and fly the pattern in your mind, then it will be easy. Try to hold it off, and just let the airplane land when it’s ready to, you can feel it.” I let the brakes off, shifting my heels to the floor as Romeo rounded the turn lining up with the runway. I pressed the throttle in smoothly, with authority. The Continental engine roared into the depths my soul and I worked the rudder pedals keeping all 230 HP on the centerline as the airplane leaped exuberantly off the ground. I gasped at the lift, and pressed the yoke lightly nose down to tame the climb. This is it, I’m the pilot in command, no turning back now. “Don’t wake the chickens up,” I could hear Richard say, a reference to my farm we established in the usual pre-dawn morning lessons as a memory aid. I pulled the throttle back and adjusted the prop, listening as the engine went from the familiar roar to a pleasant growl. As I turned crosswind I heard Kurt, “Pick a point on the horizon Kelli, aim for it.” I felt my mind lock onto the intensity of it all and focus on the path. Cowl flaps. G-U-M-P-S. Abeam the numbers. Carb heat. Power back. Airspeed. Flaps. Pitch for 80. Trim. Turn base. Flaps. Turn final. I’m too high. Power back. Flaps. 75 mph. Hand on the throttle. 70. Round out. Flare. Wait for it. Squeak-squeak. Not bad. I did it. I flew the airplane. I did it myself! I can do it better! Two more times around, each was better than the last.
In our moments of solitude, we learn to not only how to spread our own wings, but also to draw the people in our lives closer and hear their words speaking to us in our hearts.
Pick a point on the horizon, aim for it.
That day, I became a pilot.
