The Last Bastion of Solitude

The Last Bastion of Solitude

I had originally intended to name this piece “Up, Up and Away”, “Fly me to the Moon”, or one of any number of song titles or pop culture catchphrases which touch on aviation. That was until I actually went to Weston Airport, Leixlip, to try flying a plane. Now I see that the above title is the best way – despite the fact that words are insufficient - of verbally expressing my first trip in a light aircraft.

I arrived at the offices of Flightwise about twenty minutes before my lesson was scheduled to begin, surprised that I wasn't as nervous as I had anticipated being. I met with Brian Higgins, my instructor, and he took me through a brief overview of the basics of flight, both physical and practical. From looking at him, I could tell that the flying bug had bitten him big time. It did make for an engaging briefing though, and we were soon strolling toward our alloted aircraft; a two-seater yellow Grob G115A.

Despite my repeated pleas, Brian would not refer to me as The Yellow Devil. He did, however, show me how to get into the plane and after we ran through a reassuringly large list, I found myself in an idle airplane, ready to scoot down a shorter-than-average runway and into the big blue.

Brian opened the throttle and – again surprisingly – I didn't feel my stomach churn as is normal for me during takeoff. I think, and have thought for some time, that my apprehension of all things flying is brought on by the control which any passenger sacrifices on stepping into a vehicle which they will not be piloting; takeoff confirmed this. Brian brought the Grob to 1,000ft, levelled out, and suddenly announced, as if feigning laziness “right, you have control”.

You'll forgive the horrifically bad pun, but my time in the cockpit absolutely flew by. Brian pointed out landmarks left and right, and I duly acknowledged them, but his tour-guide impression ultimately went to waste because my head was screaming “I'm flying a feckin' plane! Look at me! Woo!” Brian had me increase and decrease my altitude, perform turns, and generally just keep the plane on an even keel. I'm proud to say that in spite of the fact that our altitude fluctuated constantly, he only needed to tip the controls occasionally during my stewardship of the aircraft.

It was all over too soon, and before I knew it Brian was taking over the controls, and bringing the Grob in for a nice, soft landing. I had known a sense of solitude which the average ground-dwelling commercial flier never experiences; for one hour I had – Brian excepted – been further from any other living soul than I had been before, looking down on all the ant-like habitats below the Grob's cockpit; it is going to be hard to avoid swanning around in aviator sunglasses and a bomber jacket from now on.

The only word which I mustered on exiting the plane was “again”, and by the time our debriefing had ended, I knew that it was a question of when, not if I would take another lesson.