A Communion of the infinite
Pilots are a rare kind of human. They leave the ordinary surface of the word, to purify their soul in the sky, and they come down to earth, only after receiving the communion of the infinite.
-Jose Maria Velasco Ibarra
I clearly remember Kim Carnes’ voice fading into the back of my mind as my eyes quickly shifted from the road and glanced at the passenger seat, my mind shut off for what felt like an eternity, and instead of driving, my brain fell into anarchy. Synapses fired uncontrollably, and doubts flooded the flow of my consciousness. What will I do? It cannot be the same as driving a car? How can someone let me do this? All these questions filled my brain in an instant, and somehow, just as fast as they appeared, they vanished, and I could begin to hear Carnes’ raspy voice once again, as I kept driving down the highway. I began to try to answer these questions, and decide whether I should show up the next day. However, instead of finding answers, for some inexplicable reason, the first thing that came into my mind as I tried to reason this through, was what underwear I’d wear just in case I crashed and they had to look for my body. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to answer this question to this day. But my mind slowly drifted back to the matter at hand, there was no way in which flying an airplane alone would be like driving a car. While these thoughts flooded my brain I had cruised a significant stretch of highway, as I realized this fear filled my body, because I knew the consequences would be catastrophic my mind drifted like this during the flight. Luckily, at this point, the music took over my thoughts once more, and I was calmed by the sounds of Depeche Mode.
I took a deep breath and began to think logically about what I was supposed to do during the flight. At that moment, the highway became my runway, and I was no longer driving, but seated in the pilot’s seat, rehearsing what would happen. “4000 rpm” I said to myself, while remembering I’d have to keep an eye on all the gauges to ensure that the engine which would keep me aloft was in prime conditions. I knew that I had to check the magnetos to make sure I had a spark in all my cylinders, and that the rpm could only drop a specific amount. The only problem was, my car doesn’t have magnetos, and I wasn’t lined up on the runway ready for takeoff; I was still driving back home trying to cope with the immense fear of fucking things up. So I ignored the fact that I may have looked crazy to any spectator and continued rehearsing for my performance. In what remained of the trip back home I had taken off, executed the route I intended to fly the next day, and landed flawlessly — in my mind, that is. But I had finally been able to deal with the anxiety, or at least that’s what I thought.
At that moment, I knew my fate was sealed
As I lay in bed trying to sleep, the dim blue light of my phone flooded the room. It was my flight instructor confirming the flight would take place the next morning. At that moment, I knew my fate was sealed— I had to show up. In that instant, all the mistakes I had made during my training came back to haunt me. I remembered every hard landing, every poorly executed turn, and especially the time I entered a nose dive and saw my life before my eyes. I blinked, and the god-awful screech of my phone’s alarm filled the room, the day had come. I promptly got into my flying attire, and grabbed my bag, stopping by the kitchen only to get my water bottle before leaving for the airfield. As I got in my car and turned it on, I could only think of the grueling task of picking the music to play during the drive to the strip. I scrolled through my Spotify to search for the perfect track, and settled on Erasure’s ‘A Little Respect’. Having solved the crucial problem, I shifted the lever to “drive” and began my journey to the airfield.
I parked in my usual spot, took a deep breath, and stepped out of the car. I crossed the fence into the ‘platform’, looked around and realized the magnitude of what I had gotten myself into. Nearly every pilot you talk to can tell you that their first ‘solo’ was out of a regular airport with a long, paved runway that is clear of obstacles. Well, I’m not exactly like every pilot. In fact, my solo was quite the opposite, and I’m sure the airfield I flew out of would scare many seasoned pilots. I was to fly out of an airstrip that is cut into a field that doubles as pasture for cows, where you usually have to carefully dodge cow turds that obstruct the runway. It doesn’t stop there, the runway is surrounded by eucalyptus trees of varying heights on three sides, and is conveniently 9000 ft above sea level. If you can’t tell already, these aren’t the best conditions for someone to fly alone for the first time.
he just said “you’re ready“
My instructor arrived shortly after me, and we headed to the hangar. He didn’t mention anything about the solo, so I proceeded to pre-flight the airplane as usual. I walked around it, thoroughly checking every screw, nut, and rivet on the airplane. Once I was done, I did it again. Twice. With the help of my instructor, I pulled the airplane out of the hangar and we both got in. I did everything as usual, and we flew for a while, making two landings. I taxiied back to the hangar, and he just said “you’re ready”. He was immediately distracted by a car that had pulled up to the runway, and asked “Who’s that?”. “My mum” I said. At that moment his pupils dilated and every trace of colour quickly escaped his face, I suddenly had an audience — he knew the stakes were high. We parked the airplane on the door of the hangar, and got down. I started to head towards my mother’s car to brief her on what would happen. My instructor, on the other hand, decided to prepare the airplane for the solo rather than greeting the woman whose son he was sending off alone on a homebuilt airplane.
We waited a while before the final members of the audience arrived, my uncle — a pilot himself — and my cousin, who both live on the premises of the airfield. By now, my instructor had finished setting up the ballast that would accompany me, and gathered the courage to join us. I knew it was time to go.
As I walked to the airplane I could feel them follow me to get a better view of what was going on, but I knew I had to ignore their existence and do what I rehearsed on my way home the night before. I climbed into the airplane, put my sunglasses on and bumped my left leg against the control stick anticlimactically, ruining my ‘Maverick’ vibe. I ignored the incident, and looked around the cockpit, and began to go through my checklist. “Fuel valve open, master switch on, fuel pump on, magnetos on, avionics off.” Everything was ready. “Clear Prop!” I shouted as I turned the key to ignition and the engine roared to life. I closed the plexi-glass door and waved to the small crowd that had gathered around the airplane. Without any hesitation, and with a completely blank mind, I advanced the throttle and made my way to the runway.
I was about to embark on my first “solo”
Once on the runway, I began to perform the items I had rehearsed the night before. “4000 rpm, magneto 1, magneto 2, magnetos are ok.” I glanced over the gauges one final time, and ensured I had enough fuel, and set the flaps. I pressed the radio button and said “Laicas Traffic, 060 on runway 05 ready for takeoff” by uttering those words, I had announced to my instructor that I was doing it, I was about to embark on my first solo. I heard some faint static on the radio and asked him to say again. “Have a good flight,” he said.
I advanced the throttle lever and heard the engine scream and felt the airplane vibrate as I accelerated down the runway. In a few seconds I had to make sure my rpms were ok, my speed was increasing, and that I was not about to run over my family and instructor by veering off course. The airplane began to lightly hop, it was time to take-off. I glanced at my airspeed and gently pulled the stick. Suddenly, the ground started to get smaller and the shaking stopped. The first thing that came to my mind was ‘Oh shit I’m flying’, a thought that was quickly interrupted by the necessity to evade the trees at the end of the runway. I looked to my right and saw a 40kg tractor weight in place of my instructor, at that moment I realised I was the most capable pilot on board, or at least I’d like to think I was.
I cleared all the obstacles around the runway and headed north, towards my house which is close to the airfield, where my dad was waiting to see me. I circled the house, trying to unsuccessfully balance the act of flying with playing real-life Where’s Waldo, I prioritised the flying and that’s why I can tell you this today, but I can’t say I saw my dad on the ground. At the moment I wasn’t thinking much, I was dumbfounded by the fact that I was up there, all alone, and I felt an immense sense of peace and satisfaction as I soared back to the airfield. I ran through the checklist, setting the airplane up for landing. “Laicas traffic, 060 on short final for runway 23.” I was ready. As I descended past the tree line at the end of the runway, the engine noise faded into the background while my brain focused on ‘buttering the bread’, making a perfect landing. I was 3 meters above the runway, and I began to arrest the descent rate to make a smooth landing. As I pulled on the stick, and the nose came up I added a tiny blip of throttle to increase my airspeed, I felt the wheels touch the ground, and I taxiied down the runway, having completed my solo.
I decided to take off once more and flew around the airfield before landing, and heading back to the hangar, where I was greeted by my instructor with a huge smile on his face, my mum who was still shaking from the anxiety, my younger brother who was in charge of the photo-op, and my cousin who had a bottle of champagne to celebrate. At this point in time, my brain was still ruminating what I just accomplished, and to be honest, as I write this, almost a year and over 50 flights later, I can’t fully believe I did it.
To this day every time I fly the first thing that comes to my mind as I take off is “oh shit I’m flying”, very appropriate, I know. Just as much as I am surprised by the fact that I can command an aircraft on my own, the experience brings me peace. It has uncovered beauty where I thought there was none. I fly above areas which I’ve driven or walked through for my entire life, I get to see new things, things I would’ve never seen otherwise. Be it abandoned houses, the chaotic patterns of uncontrolled urban growth, or a different portrait of the same topography I took for granted for 18 years.
As I soar past giant volcanoes which have adorned the landscape for thousands of years, I’ve come to realise how unimaginably tiny and ephemeral we truly are. It is an experience that can be best described as a communion of the infinite, where I forget all the troubles that hold me down, and let the vastness of the skies purify me before letting me come down. As Antoine de Saint-Exupéry said “I fly because it releases my mind from the tyranny of petty things’’, something crucial in a day and age where we are so absorbed by social media becoming slaves to the lesser pleasures.
