| Maintain VFR at or below two-thousand, roger. |
In the days before radios and intercoms were standard equipment on aircraft, the instructor (sitting behind the student) would tug on his shirttail to get his attention, then yell in his ear what he needed to communicate. It became tradition to cut the student's shirttail off and hang it up at the club after the student's first solo, symbolizing the instructor's confidence in the student (no need to get their attention and yell in their ear anymore).
While the tradition seems to have died off, at least in my flying club, the excitement and import of my first solo was not diminished by the intactness of my shirt.
I am no longer an aspiring pilot. I am now a "pilot". Well, a "student pilot", if you want to get all technical, but I am now entrusted and permitted to fly an airplane by myself. Within certain limitations, of course. But still, I can now take the ship out and be completely responsible for flying it safely.
Typically, prospective solo students must be checked out by another CFI before that student can be signed off to solo the club's aircraft. Fiona duly made the arrangements two weeks out, but due to an acute instructor shortage (job opportunity!) and crummy weather, I was only able to complete the oral exam portion of the examination. After the second attempt at the flying portion of the test was scrubbed due to high winds, I was convinced that I wouldn't have an opportunity to solo before I had to leave for the Pacific Crest Trail.
I was in bed (at four o'clock in the afternoon, depressed) when the text from Fiona came through -- she had put in a good word with the club owner and he'd agreed to let me solo without the phase check. How's that for confidence? Now if only the weather would cooperate.
The First Solo
After weeks of brutal crosswinds, gusts, turbulence, low overcast, and all manner of lousy weather, Wednesday, April 22nd was nearly windless: perfect for a first solo. Fiona and I went around the pattern a couple of times to get in the groove, and then she had me taxi back to the tiedown, got out, and said "Have fun!". This was it. I was on my own.
The very first thing I did when I had the airplane to myself was over-lean the engine and kill it.
I restarted and completed the rest of the taxi and runup, and suddenly found myself accelerating down the runway, and then airborne.
I couldn't stop smiling. The airplane seemed to leap into the sky. I had climbed a thousand feet before I had barely finished the crosswind leg. Ok, time to focus. Head in the game. Talk through it. Carb heat, throttle, pitch, flaps, pitch, throttle, flaps, cleared option, base turn, pitch, final approach, alllmost down...almosst.....the airplane just kept floating down the runway about five hundred feet farther than I was used to. All that right-seat ballast really does make a difference! Finally it settled onto the runway, and I was officially a solo pilot!
When Neil Armstrong landed the Eagle on the Lunar surface, after a journey of a half a million miles, with the eyes of the world on him, do you know what his first words were?
Celebration? Backslapping? "Woohoo"?
Negative. He said "Ok, let's get on with it..." And proceeded to run the after landing checklist with Buzz Aldrin. That's pure pilot.
It was with that example in mind upon my first solo touchdown that I kept my mind on flying the airplane - flaps, carb heat, trim, fuel, throttle, let's go.
I went around the pattern a couple of times to get the yips out, and decided at that point that I'd had enough excitement for one day.
Fiona was all smiles when she greeted me. It sure felt good to mark that first .5 hours of "Pilot in Command" time in my logbook. Half an hour down, 249.5 to go until I'll be the one sending new pilots off with a "Have Fun!". I can't wait to log them.
Typically, prospective solo students must be checked out by another CFI before that student can be signed off to solo the club's aircraft. Fiona duly made the arrangements two weeks out, but due to an acute instructor shortage (job opportunity!) and crummy weather, I was only able to complete the oral exam portion of the examination. After the second attempt at the flying portion of the test was scrubbed due to high winds, I was convinced that I wouldn't have an opportunity to solo before I had to leave for the Pacific Crest Trail.
I was in bed (at four o'clock in the afternoon, depressed) when the text from Fiona came through -- she had put in a good word with the club owner and he'd agreed to let me solo without the phase check. How's that for confidence? Now if only the weather would cooperate.
The First Solo
After weeks of brutal crosswinds, gusts, turbulence, low overcast, and all manner of lousy weather, Wednesday, April 22nd was nearly windless: perfect for a first solo. Fiona and I went around the pattern a couple of times to get in the groove, and then she had me taxi back to the tiedown, got out, and said "Have fun!". This was it. I was on my own.
The very first thing I did when I had the airplane to myself was over-lean the engine and kill it.
I restarted and completed the rest of the taxi and runup, and suddenly found myself accelerating down the runway, and then airborne.
I couldn't stop smiling. The airplane seemed to leap into the sky. I had climbed a thousand feet before I had barely finished the crosswind leg. Ok, time to focus. Head in the game. Talk through it. Carb heat, throttle, pitch, flaps, pitch, throttle, flaps, cleared option, base turn, pitch, final approach, alllmost down...almosst.....the airplane just kept floating down the runway about five hundred feet farther than I was used to. All that right-seat ballast really does make a difference! Finally it settled onto the runway, and I was officially a solo pilot!
When Neil Armstrong landed the Eagle on the Lunar surface, after a journey of a half a million miles, with the eyes of the world on him, do you know what his first words were?
Celebration? Backslapping? "Woohoo"?
Negative. He said "Ok, let's get on with it..." And proceeded to run the after landing checklist with Buzz Aldrin. That's pure pilot.
It was with that example in mind upon my first solo touchdown that I kept my mind on flying the airplane - flaps, carb heat, trim, fuel, throttle, let's go.
I went around the pattern a couple of times to get the yips out, and decided at that point that I'd had enough excitement for one day.
Fiona was all smiles when she greeted me. It sure felt good to mark that first .5 hours of "Pilot in Command" time in my logbook. Half an hour down, 249.5 to go until I'll be the one sending new pilots off with a "Have Fun!". I can't wait to log them.
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